Shadows of Chaos
by Earendil Eldar
Summary: Sequel to Chaos Theory, but prior reading shouldn't be a pre-req for this. Faramir is finally getting comfortable in his life when everything takes a turn, yet again. COMPLETE!
1. Three Months Later

"Out. Out! OUT!" That last shout would have had orcs tucking tail and fleeing.

The King's Council had never seen him quite so enraged and the best number of them had wisely chosen to move quickly, but respectfully, for the exit. Of those who remained, three were immortal. The other was his own son.

Aragorn stared around the now vacated room before lowering his head into his hands. Weariness was only one word for what he felt. "Water. Could i just have some water?" he muttered into his hand.

Erestor, the ever-ready advisor, had a glass in the King's hand practically before the words left his lips.

"Thank you, Erestor," Aragorn said, finally looking up. "I apologize... to you all."

"There is little to apologize for, mellon. I believe i speak for us all when i say that this extended winter season has us all running short of patience," Legolas replied good-naturedly.

"I thought winter didn't dampen your spirits, tree-squirrel," Aragorn said, attempting to raise a brow at his friend.

Legolas grinned almost manically for a moment. "It does not when i am anywhere but in a city of Men, deer-hunter."

Glorfindel, Erestor, and Faramir simultaneously glanced at each other. "His temper will even once his son or daughter is born," the Mortal reassured the two Elves of Imladris, remembering what things were like for him before his children were born. Elboron and Findiel were now just three months old, and growing more and more every day to Faramir's eyes. As it happened, the Queen of Gondor was currently four months pregnant and the King was ready to go back into exile.

Winter was refusing to give in without an almighty fight and Gondor was seeing the most unpleasant conditions it had seen since before Elendil crossed the Sea and founded the kingdom. It was altogether strange and everyone was beginning to feel a bout of cabin fever. Though Aragorn was clearly the worst afflicted.

"Having been raised in Rivendell," Aragorn began slowly and somewhat lamenting, "I never thought i would understand the custom in Gondor that males and females should keep their chambers separate, but now i believe i see the wisdom of this."

"It will onlybe until late summer, adar," Faramir said comfortingly.

"Until late this year," Erestor corrected dryly. "Elves carry for twelve months."

Aragorn blanched. "Glorfindel? Have you any miruvor?"

---

That evening a host arrived from Edoras which included the King of Rohan, and also the new Queen of Rohan. Aragorn and Faramir greeted them at Minas Tirith's newly finished north gate. Aragorn was glad to see his loyal, if not impetuous, friend, as Faramir was glad that his cousin was in their homeland again.

Lothiriel seemed every bit as pleased as Faramir that she was back in Gondor, and this Faramir noted with trepidation. Perhaps life in Rohan was not all she had hoped and he made a mental note to ask her of it as soon as he could. Faramir had to praise Éowyn for her attempts to fit into Gondorian society, though he could tell that she found that it was not all that she had hoped. Though Éowyn had changed greatly since the birth of their children and now busied herself more often among garden plants than horses and swords, Faramir was well aware that many customs of his kingdom were foreign to her and a good deal of them she greatly disliked.

Now that his life was at last becoming steady, Faramir had started planning for a home in Ithilien, one which his father routinely insisted be in sight of Minas Tirith. The work was slow, to say the least, but he felt there was certainly no rush, especially now that he was a father of two.

Faramir made it a point to spend much time with his little ones, though they were only a few months old and would not remember that he was always there for them, it mattered little to the proud father. By the time they were old enough to recognize how much he loved them, nothing would change, he would still always be there for his children. But in the last several months, the Steward could think of nothing more contenting than holding his sleeping daughter or feeling his son's already strong grip, though that was usual felt rather painfully with a tug on his hair. Faramir's greatest hope for his children was that they would grow up to become happy, proud, confident, and well-learnéd people.

Aragorn and Faramir still carried on their practice of taking their evening repast together and sharing news, opinions, and the occasional lament of any of various aspects of life in the city. When Faramir took into account all that he had lived through in his few short years and all that he had gained in just the last year, the balance seemed to have at long last been struck. There was no pretense of perfection, not by a long shot, but Faramir was quite content to take the ups with the downs, as they might naturally come.

That was until the day the host from Rohan arrived.

---

_At long last, the sequel to Chaos Theory has begun. For those who just can't get enough of our dear Fara' and his tear-jerking life... stay tuned, but be warned, there are trials ahead for the young Steward. Losses and gains to be reckoned with._


	2. We're Going to See the Elves!

Many things happened in Minas Tirith on the day that Éomer and Lothiriel arrived. After Aragorn and Faramir went to greet them they all gathered for a welcoming feast in Merethrond. Present were Aragorn and Arwen, Faramir and Éowyn, Éomer and Lothiriel, and Glorfindel and Erestor, the latter of which were speaking relatively little to each other once again, unless their speech was done in glares. Aragorn had asked Legolas and Gimli to join them, but each declined wanting to oversee more the work that was taking place in Minas Tirith.

The dinner was cordial and genial though, for the most part. However, when a side conversation of Éomer and Éowyn's happened to be overheard by Faramir, things grew a little tense. Éomer had made a remark about the priggishness of Gondorian women, telling his sister that he still could not get used to the fact that Lothiriel insisted that their chambers remain apart even though they had been married for the last two months. Éowyn told him that it was the same for her and Faramir, that he utterly refused to sleep in the same bed as his wife for an entire night. She told her brother that it was apparently some mark of distinction among the higher class of Gondor that they did not share their quarters, but that clearly the king and queen were exempt from such customs.

Faramir heard these things well enough, though his wife and brother-in-law had kept their voices quiet. The three Eldar at the table also picked up the conversation quite clearly, though they all chose to remain impassive. Aragorn was the only one left out, which was quite fortunate at the time. As it was, Faramir was only stopped from returning with a few comments of his own by Aragorn suggesting that the guests be shown to their housing, then come to his sitting room that all might catch up with one another.

Rising as the guests left with Éowyn guiding them, no doubt to stop along the way to meet their niece and nephew, Faramir declined to join everyone else at Aragorn's hearth. He was much more interested in getting back to his study than in listening to more derisive comments about his society. Erestor offered to accompany him, much to Glorfindel's annoyance, which caused the dark-haired advisor nothing more than a victory smirk.

Practically falling down into a chair by the hearth in his study, Faramir was glad of Erestor's company and assistance through the last several months. Elrond's Chief Advisor was every bit as competent and throughout as his reputation alleged. Faramir sat for a while gazing into the hearth, feeling tired from the work of the day, which he had yet to finish to his satisfaction, as well as the substantial dinner. He decided to let go the matter of Éowyn and Éomer's comments about his people. It was just not worth getting upset over.

Faramir popped open a bottle of wine and offered Erestor a glass before they got any further into the reports and such that had been left aside. The Elf and the Mortal had come to be good friends, having so much in common when it came to work ethic. That and the fact that they could relate well to one another about having blond lovers who they cared deeply about despite the fact that they drove them half mad.

For some while they sat before the fire in peaceful silence, each musing over many different thoughts that came to mind. Faramir lifted his head from where it had found itself rested against the high back of his chair, lest he drift into sleep. Erestor was still staring into the fire and Faramir wondered if the Elf hadn't drifted into sleep. A sigh from the advisor proved him to be awake though.

"What is on your mind, mellon?" Faramir asked.

"The last time i was in the Hall of Fire," Erestor answered reflectively. "I believe that i may return to Imladris before long."

"And Lord Glorfindel with you," Faramir added after a moment.

Erestor lifted a brow in Faramir's direction. "Yes, _if_ he apologizes to me."

Faramir just chuckled, knowing by now that this argument of theirs, too, would pass. Briefly the Steward wondered what the Balrog-slayer had done this time, but he reconsidered asking. He really did not want to know.

Erestor sat the wine glass aside then and went to Faramir's desk, returning with two handfuls of parchment. Faramir took his share and began to review the reports. Most of them were the of same sort of thing he read daily: "Our company intercepted the errant band of orcs at the north border. All were beheaded. Of our own: none lost, three wounded, including one captain. None need care beyond our company's means. Two swords, six shields, and nine bows are in need of reforging or replacement. All arrows were able to be refurbished on site. No other requisitions at this time."

Faramir was not aware that he had fallen asleep where he sat until the next morning when Aragorn brought him a cup of tea after his son had slept through breakfast. "That dull, are they?" Aragorn asked with a smile.

Faramir returned the smile. "Yes, they may be dull, but they are all important to me. Several of them are in need of provisions. I shall have to see the armorer this afternoon."

Aragorn nodded. "Noon is nigh at hand," he said indicating the hazy sunlight. "But before you go, did Erestor mention anything about Rivendell last night?"

"Aye, he said that he was considering returning soon," Faramir said. Aragorn could not help but note the note of longing in Faramir's voice. It took all of the king's strength to repress a grin.

"Erestor asked me this morning at breakfast about borrowing one of our mounts. It seems Mornië is... with foal," Aragorn said.

Faramir smiled but was pensive. "I should hardly like to say no, certainly not to Master Erestor, but we are precariously short of expendable horses right now. I would greatly like to know what is in the water that has the majority of our mares 'with foal,' as you say."

"Well, i know that as well. I thought that perhaps there might be a solution, though," Aragorn said. "Mornië is likely to deliver some time after Erestor leaves. This presents to me two options. I can either give our friend one of our horses in exchange for his, or i can lend him one of ours and send someone along to Rivendell to return with the other mount. Mornië would have no trouble at all returning to Imladris on her own once she and her foal are ready."

Faramir's eyes sparkled for the briefest of moments, just as Aragorn had expected. Just the thought of going to Rivendell made Faramir's mind reel with eagerness. Taking a deep breath, though, Faramir considered all of the responsibilities that he held in Minas Tirith and did his best to put the thought out of his mind.

"I, myself, am really rather ready for some time away from home," Aragorn said, considering the mood Arwen had taken the night before when they retired. The king considered himself lucky to have gotten away with only a bruise on his left arm.

Faramir nodded. "I agree, adar, you are in need of time away. And i am sure that you are eager to see your home and Lord Elrond once more."

"Aye, i am... that i am," Aragorn said contemplatively. "Though, to be truthful, i do not look forward to making the journey back alone with naught but a couple of ponies to talk to. It is not like going from here to Edoras, such that one is just growing comfortable in the travel when they arrive. The road from Imladris grows very lonely long about Redhorn Pass."

Faramir thought on that for a moment before suggesting that his father ask Legolas to join him.

Aragorn looked as though he considered that suggestion for a moment or two, before dismissing it. "Legolas and i have traveled far and wide together, but i am not quite sure that my friend is not more interested in seeing that my city turns from white to green by the time this winter breaks. Likewise, i know i could not coax Gimli into taking the trip with me, not unless i agreed to pass a month in the Glittering Caves on the way back. Actually... i was thinking that my Steward could do with a holiday."

Faramir smiled broadly, but stopped short of jumping at the chance. "I would really love to, father... but i have so much here that i must see to. And the children -"

"You must see to nothing that can not wait. And you know the children are in good hands here. Would i ever rest if i feared for one moment about my grandchildren?" Aragorn said, determined to convince Faramir to come with him. He knew that for as many years as Faramir could remember he had longed to look upon the Last Homely House East of the Sea.

Faramir was in the middle of a tug-of-war between duty and desire. "Of course i know Elboron and Findiel are going to be fine here, but i... i can not just leave the city as i please. I ought not have left last summer as i did, but certainly not now. Father, really, i -"

"Faramir, how long have you dreamt of Imladris?" Aragorn prodded.

"Since the day naneth first told me the tales... but -"

"And you agree that your children are safe in Minas Tirith with their mother, and Arwen, and the nurses?"

"Yes, i agree, i fear not for them, but -"

"And you would not mind accompanying an old ex-Ranger?"

"Father, you know i would not, but -"

"Good, then the matter is settled," Aragorn said with finality. "When Erestor and Glorfindel return to Imladris, you and i shall go along as well."

Faramir had to laugh. Every now and then Aragorn had a way of trapping someone with his logic. "I do not deny that it has been my fondest dream for all of my life to go to Rivendell. I thank you, father."

Aragorn smiled warmly. "Do not thank me, Faramir. You know that you should have gone there in Boromir's stead. You know that it was you who was spoken to in dreams. I hope you shall love Rivendell as much as i do. And i know that you shall." Aragorn rose, and went to the window, noting the time of day. "Haven't you an appointment with the armorer?"

---

_Linda: Oh yes, indeed. Father and son will be spending a lot of time together._

_Raska: Never fear, Morgoth is out of the picture. The fact that Faramir had enough strength to resist (and also some very powerful friends) was a big set back for the one in the Void. Still, Morgoth did not really "possess" Fara' in the last story as such. The evil of Morgoth remains in Middle-earth and it temporarily held sway over Faramir's thoughts. Evil can never be truly eradicated from Middle-earth though._

_Yes, Faramir does hold the title of Prince of Ithilien, and yes Eowyn should definitely be happy about the new home. _

_I am not terribly sure how much of Faramir and Eowyn we are going to see together with the children. Faramir is going to have some things to take care of and is going to be away from Minas Tirith for a while. But, we shall see. Yes, though, they are most certainly active and loving parents. Faramir would do anything at all for his little ones, he is determined to be a good dad._

_Elenhin: Not to give anything way or to overforeshadow, but... if you think something went wrong in the last story... you ain't seen nothing yet. I am well aware that i am going to get flamed in the future, and may i say that it may well only encourage me because i definitely hope to evoke a response. But, for those who love angst and tragedy, i am promising a heck of a ride._

_AM: Yeah! :)_

_Voldie: Hey, i love you too! I have to say that i don't honestly like a lot of slash pairings out there, simply because most are totally non-canon (hey, i have spent every Saturday night in the last year with my gay friends, with the exception of one that i actually spent with the keeper of my heart). But i certainly see nothing non-canon about Glor' and Ere', not like pairing Gimli and Gollum or something. (Knows she just gave someone somewhere a really weird plot bunny - if i did, would you be kind enough to email or noteme when you have the story written?)_

_As far as Faramir suffering goes... just you wait! It's going to be terrible! (Am i sounding way too excited about that?)_

_Wow... i rarely leave this many author notes, but you all gave me such great feedback for my first chapter that i had to give some back. I wish i could promise time frames for updates, but i will do what ican to goad my muse into keeping my fingers typing frequently. I don't think this story is going to be as long as its predecessor, but i will be packing a lot more pain into it. Faramir has so had it too easy!_


	3. Bad News, Good News

It was evening before Faramir had a chance to get back to his study and finish going through the reports. He had talked over the decision to ride to Imladris with a number of people, and all supported him. Faramir was perfectly thrilled with this new prospect, especially when he considered that if there was enough time they might take a brief visit to the Shire as well.

After dinner with his father and Legolas and some counsel on travel arrangements, Faramir went to his study and was going to start drawing up everything that would be needed when he noticed a report that had been left from the previous night. It only caught his eyes because the hand was rather strange, seeming to have been written hastily, and the paper slightly crumpled. It was also an extraordinarily lengthy report and Faramir grew curious. He picked it up and sat back, expecting to learn something interesting. By the time he had finished reading its contents, the Steward was pacing his office in anger.

Though he hated to interrupt Aragorn and Éomer's discussion, Faramir decided that the King of Gondor needed to receive the information he held at once. If what he was reading was true, and he begged the Valar that it was not, something would have to be done immediately.

Faramir knocked at the study door, which Aragorn answered himself. The smoldering eyes of his son said much, though he was not sure if he should ask the Steward's brother-in-law to leave. Faramir said nothing but handed him the scroll he had been reading.

As Aragorn read, his hands clenched and shook in fury. Throwing down the offending report he began pacing much as Faramir had. "Our soldiers?" he more demanded than asked.

"So this contends," Faramir said, picking up the paper. "It is my hope that this is not true, though."

"It better had not be! The very men i, _i_, sent? I will skin them alive if this is so! What in the name of Udûn do they think they are doing?!" The level of anger that some had seen during the last council meeting was quickly returning. Aragorn took a few deep breaths (as well as a couple sips of wine) before continuing. Putting a hand on Faramir's shoulder, more to steady himself than his son, he asked, "Do you think it is possible that the messenger who brought this is still in the city?"

"Most likely," Faramir replied simply. "I will seek for him immediately. Should i have him brought here?"

"No, to the Hall of Kings. This is going to be rather formal." Aragorn dragged a hand over his face, muttering something to the effect of "why is it always me?"

Faramir went quickly to the sixth level where the messenger's quarters were kept and asked if any had come from Pelargir. One young boy came forward, looking tired, weak, hungry, and most of all, afraid. Faramir recognized that look as one of someone who has seen far too much in his few years, and the Steward was filled with pity. Smiling, Faramir put an arm around the gaunt shoulders of the lad. "Come with me, the King requests your presence," he said kindly.

"King Elessar?" the young man asked sounded extremely alarmed. "My lord, i can hardly go before the king as i am!"

Faramir only smiled. "I think he will understand better than you may think. But come, i will see that you are perhaps a little more presentable." Faramir took the messenger to his own chambers where he found him some more suitable attire, as well as a hot bath and meal.

On the way to the Hall the young man turned to Faramir, "My lord, i can not thank you for showing me such kindness. I am in your debt and would serve you in any way you should need."

Faramir stopped and looked into the boy's eyes. "It is you whom i strive to serve. You and all those like you who are so loyal to Gondor. You owe me nothing," he said with all sincerity. "What is your name, lad?"

"I am Faramir, my lord," he boy replied. Seeing the Steward's puzzled expression, the boy explained, "My mother named me for a kind young captain from Ithilien who fed her and my brothers and gave them provisions just before i was born. Mother said they would not have survived without his help."

For a moment Faramir stood open-mouthed as he remembered. Taking a breath he smiled fondly and brushed away a tear that had slipped out. "Well met, young Faramir," he said after a long moment. "I am Faramir, Steward of Gondor."

It wasthen theboy's turn to stare agape. "The captain from Ithilien?" the younger Faramir asked before coming to his senses and dropping down to his knees immediately.

Lifting the child to stand, Faramir said, "Yes, i was Captain of the Ithilien Rangers for a number of years. But i would not have you kneel to me. I can not tell you the gift you have just given me, to know that one small kindness of mine has been so remembered. But come, i fear we have kept the King waiting overlong. Ah, do not look so frightened! Let me speak first with him, and all you must do is answer him truthfully. Aragorn is every bit as charitable as i in the end."

---

_Isn't that nice? Please, enjoy the niceness while it lasts. I sure hope our dear Fara' does._

_Voldie: Actually, i am disinclined to agree about Frodo/Sam. In fact, that is one of the pairings i have yet to read. I just think that in Tolkien's day one often used words that we misconstrue today. Still and all, if that's what floats your boat, it doesn't bother me._

_Anyway, a Gimli/Gollum fic? If you can bear to write it i could bear to read it... i think. _

_I definitely do not have the story written already, i just have the rough draft filed in my mind. I know what is going to happen when, approximately. Though the bit about the young Faramir just came to me this morning. And by the way, i update so fast because outside of my M-F 9-5, i have no life whatsoever :)_

_AM: Just one box of tissues? No way, better buy in bulk for this one. Like i said, i am well braced for the Balrog-sized flames i am likely to get._

_Linda: I am not entirely sure how dire the situation is going to get for Aragorn and Faramir, but they both have some work ahead for them, and Faramir is going to have a lot to contend with emotionally before too long._


	4. Trouble Uncovered

Faramir pushed open the great door to the Hall of Kings. Inside the long expanse was dark, lit only at the far end by torches around the throne. The boy Faramir was terrified, despite Steward Faramir's words of assurance. By Aragorn stood Legolas, Gimli, Erestor, and Glorfindel, as well several Gondorian officials, including Prince Imrahil's adjutant, who happened to be in the city.

As they walked forward the shadowy statues of former Kings of Gondor seemed to watch and weigh up the two. For the elder Faramir, it was a familiar feeling. As a rule, matters were handled in the Hall of Kings as rarely as possible, and of those that did require such formality, Faramir abstained as often as possible. This was a room filled with memories for him and few of them were fond. Faramir was all the more thankful that Aragorn wasn't overly enthusiastic about the Hall either, mostly because he despised the inconsequential ceremony of it all. Aragorn knew he was King, and that was enough for him.

The young Faramir, though he tried to keep his gaze forward, could not help but steal glances at the regal looking men of old. The child was rather chilled by the echo of his footfalls in this place and was glad that there was another Faramir going ahead of him. It took all of the boy's composure not to laugh when he thought how amazing it was that he was here with his namesake, though once the reality of the situation returned, he felt little like laughing. As he looked ahead he saw a number of men standing near the one he guessed to be the King. All of them looked regal and grave and suddenly the young man felt as though he was on trial for the contents of his message.

When the Steward reached the dais he knelt swiftly, addressing Aragorn as "my liege." This only seemed normal to the officials of the kingdom and the younger Faramir. The rest of them were suppressing snickers at the thought that behind closed doors the Steward only used such titles in jest. Aragorn, for his part, forced himself to refrain from rolling his eyes and after an extended moment told his son to rise. If there was one thing that Aragorn loved, it was mocking such rituals with a excessive show of power. He knew he was likely to earn a cuff on the shoulder from his son for that one afterward.

"My liege," Faramir said again, rising, "i have summoned before you the messenger from Pelagir who you called for." Faramir then stepped aside and stood by the Steward's throne, which he practically never sat upon, remembering how Denethor would spend entire days from dawn to dusk just sitting there doing utterly nothing.

The boy took a step forward, fell to his knees, and said, barely above a whisper, "My liege King Elessar."

Aragorn rose and walked down to the young man, now that formal greetings were done. He rested a hand on the child's shoulder and bid him stand. It was with a fond smile that he noted the boy was dressed in the livery of the Guards of the Citadel. Though likely some of the city's officers would find it less charming that someone not of those ranks was wearing those signs, they would not speak of it unless the King or the Steward did, which they did not.

Aragorn took a knee before the boy so as not to seem so imposing - the fear was written on this child's features. "What is your name, lad?" Aragorn asked gently.

"I am called Faramir, my liege," he answered humbly.

The King's eyes widened a bit and he looked to his son. When Faramir gave no response other than to nod back toward the boy, Aragorn looked confused.

In that moment the child was torn between remaining silent unless his King asked him something and speaking up for the Steward's good deeds. With a sudden bit of courage the boy looked into the King's eyes and said, "My mother named me for your Steward because when he was a young captain in Ithilien he helped her and my brothers with provisions. My father was killed before i was born, 13 years ago. My family would not have survived if it had not been for Lord Faramir. It is my only hope that i should live up to his honor," the lad finished in a whisper.

For a moment there was a distant look in Aragorn's eyes as he thought back to someone else who had died 13 years ago. He shut his eyes and bowed his head for a moment and thought of his mother. In that moment, Aragorn was not King of Gondor and Arnor, but only a son who still missed his mother. He thought too of the father he never got to know.

Looking up again, Aragorn embraced the child, saying, "You have the welcome of my halls, young Faramir. Please, sit with me, for i am in need of your assistance." Aragorn sat back against the steps leading up to his throne and invited the boy to sit beside him. Damn formality to Mordor, he would not have this young man of Gondor afraid to talk to him. "Please, my friends, be seated also," he said motioning to his friends and the officials gathered.

His friends seemed to have no trouble making themselves at home, to the apparent annoyance of Gondor's officers who were rather uncomfortable sitting about on the floor. Glorfindel even had the nerve to have a seat on the Throne of Gondor and when one of the officials looked shocked and started to say something, Glorfindel looked him square in the eye and said, "Die with a Balrog on your back and _then_ you can tell me where to sit."

Hearing the remark, the younger Faramir's mouth dropped open as he just realized that those were Elves standing there and that the one on the King's throne must have been the legendary Glorfindel himself. He did not know the Elf dressed in black who whispered to him in what seemed sarcasm, "Do not worry, when we are done here Glorfindel will tell you everything you ever wanted to know about himself." Nor did he know the wood-elf who was seated on the floor beside a Dwarf and leaning back against the throne.

Aragorn noted all of this with a laugh, whatever he had said to his son about being rather formal had been duly dismissed. But when it came to it, he really did need to know if what was reportedly going on in Pelargir was true. "Tell me, young Faramir, how long were you at Pelargir before coming here?" he asked.

"I was sent there at the end of the war, my lord," he answered.

"I sent you?" Aragorn asked.

"You sent the company i was called into, my lord."

"I see. When were you called into that regiment?"

"Just before they left. They had lost a messenger in the war and since i was in good health, i was enlisted, my lord."

Aragorn detested the thought of a 13 year old boy being enlisted as a messenger. He would see that something was done about that. "And your company was sent directly to Pelargir to keep the peace there, is that correct?"

"It is, my lord," the boy replied.

"Were you in Pelargir at all times from your arrival there until you were sent here with a message?"

"I was, my lord."

"Had you wanted to go to Pelargir as an enlisted messenger?" Aragorn asked.

Faramir the younger took a moment to respond. He was told that all that would be required of him was to answer truthfully, but he wondered if the truth was always the right answer. He trusted the Steward's words though, and so replied quietly, "No, my liege, i did not."

Aragorn nodded and motioned to Faramir the elder, but before he could ask, his son was already making a note to see that the young man returned to his family and was removed from service. "Will you tell me, then, of what you saw in Pelargir?" Aragorn asked the boy. "You need not disguise any fact. I would know only the reality of the situation."

Young Faramir took a deep breath. He knew what had been going on there was wrong, and he wanted the King to know, confident that he would put everything to right. "My liege... much happened routinely in Pelargir which i do not think was sanctioned. I was given my message to bear by one of the soldiers of the company, and i do not know of what it reported, but i can say that he is a brave soldier and a true and loyal servant of Gondor. I guess that he reported to you the violence in that port. Many of those who inhabit Pelargir are refugees from Umbar. Most of them are women and children, but there were many men also who came in hope of a new life when he whom we do not speak of was defeated. Most of the women and children from Umbar do not speak the common tongue and many of the men do not either, speaking only the language of the Southrons. When soldiers would ask the foreigners if they were loyal to Gondor, they did not understand and so did not reply." The child stopped and looked downward. "Those who did not give reply were killed, women and children too. The soldiers said it was a matter of Gondor's safety that none treacherous should be within our kingdom." Aragorn held the young Faramir as the boy wept of the images that still haunted him.

It was a long while before anyone spoke again. "Where does your family live now, Faramir?" Aragorn asked.

The boy looked up into Aragorn's grey, compassion-filled eyes. "Our home was on the first level of the city with my father's brother, but i do not know if it still stands. I arrived here at night and i have not been given leave to seek my family yet, my liege."

"Well you are hereby given leave," Aragorn said, standing. "Not only leave for this day, but i also give you leave of your service to Gondor. You have done your country a great deed and i shall see that you are remembered for it, young Faramir. As far as the status of your home, i believe i am correct in saying that the first level is completely rebuilt, am i not Gimli?"

"That you are, Aragorn. No one has gone without good housing this winter, i can assure you that much, laddie," the Dwarf said to the child.

"If my friend Legolas here had his way," Aragorn said to Faramir with a smile, "no one would go without a newly planted tree this summer, either. Though it does take rather longer to turn a stone city into a forest than it does to replace stone with stone."

"That it why i have forever, mellon-nín," Legolas replied grinning.

Aragorn just shook his head, wondering if one day Minas Tirith would be turned into a forest. He then turned to the Balrog-slayer. "O Lord Glorfindel who rules in my stead, might i humbly ask of you to see this good young Faramir safely to his home?"

Glorfindel jumped up off the throne and stood beside the boy, happy to help and have a chance to tell his favorite tale to the awed lad. Aragorn rested his hands on the child's shoulders and laid a kiss upon his brow. "Go, Faramir, with my blessing, for Gondor owes you a debt."

The boy bowed to his King and to Faramir the elder before going with Glorfindel out of the grand hall. After they left the rest of those gather began to rise, some rather more awkwardly than others. Aragorn turned to his son and said, "It looks as though we will certainly be traveling, but unfortunately in the opposite direction. This is going to have to be dealt with immediately. In fact, i would have us leave the morning after next."

Faramir nodded. Though he could not help be somewhat disappointed at the change in plans, he agreed with his father that immediate action needed to be taken. Faramir turned to go and begin preparations for their departure when one of the officials spoke.

"I do not see a need for either you or the Steward to go to Pelargir, my liege," a man named Thorondir said. "In fact, i really see no need to send any. I do not believe our soldiers have acted out of line. If it is true that those who were killed were from Umbar, they were likely spies. If they seek to live in Gondor, perhaps they should learn our tongue first."

"I agree with Thorondir," another said, as did two others. In fact, the only official who did not agree was Imrahil's adjutant, Eärramar.

Aragorn just stared at the officers, anger brewing in his gaze. "_Nadorhuanrim! Antolle ulua sulrim._"

Silent they stood, not knowing what their King had just said to them. Legolas laid a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "_Tula, mellon-nín. N'dela no'ta. Cu-amin linduva yassen megil-le, be iest lîn._"

"_Hannon le_, Legolas," Aragorn said simply, walking away from the Hall to go back to his study with his friends and supporters and his son.

---

_Nadorhuanrim! Antolle ulua sulrim Cowardly dogs! Much wind pours from your mouth._

_Tula, mellon-nín. N'dela no'ta. Cu-amin linduva yassen megil-le, be iest lîn Come, my friend. Do not worry about it. My bow shall sing with your sword, if you wish (literally: be iest lin according to your wish)._

_Hannon le Thank you._

_We should pity those officers... i don't think they will have their jobs much longer. Do not mess with the husband of a pregnant Elf._

_Voldie: Ripples of Chaos...i personally think it's worth a read, but then i may be bias :) It's really not too terribly slashy. The appendix to it is though._

_There will be some stuff with the twins and their mummy in the next chapter which should be up very soon. This one was only delayed because of the upgrades they were doing, elsewise it would have been up late Saturday._

_Gimli/Gollum - no, not canonical. However... they both love caves! (I am shuddering already)_

_Linda: I would imagine that, too! I think Fara' has done a lot more for people than he knows._


	5. Change of Plans

Sitting together in Aragorn's study were his son, Legolas, Gimli, Erestor, and Eärramar. Aragorn chose to see about reappointing officers later that they might concentrate on the matter at hand. It was decided the on the morning after next Aragorn and Faramir would ride to Pelargir with a small host which would include Legolas and Gimli and a number of Ithilien Rangers. Glorfindel was also invited, if he so wished to join them. Naturally he accepted.

Erestor offered to remain to care for the office of the Steward again, whereas Eärramar would be returning to Dol Amroth to report this to Imrahil that they may raise their diligence in the south to guard against such things. Indeed, the adjutant had left the meeting at once to prepare.

Aragorn and Glorfindel were discussing minor details when Aragorn noticed Faramir had said nothing and was looking tired. "Ion-nín, go, take some rest. You have worked overmuch already this day. Go, and kiss my grandchildren for me," Aragorn said. Then suddenly the King jumped up. "Elbereth! I told Arwen i would be back before moonrise. We will discuss this on the morrow, i must go," he said hurrying away and praying his wife would be lenient.

Faramir, too, wasted little time in going to Éowyn and the children. He knocked upon the door and when Éowyn answered Faramir was glad that the nurse had gone for the night and for a few moments he simply relaxed by the fire. He knew Éowyn would not be likely to appreciate the news he had, but just as he started to tell her of what had transpired that evening, Findiel woke with a loud cry. Faramir smiled and went to hold his daughter. She really was a little bit of magic for him, and Faramir felt less tired and much more heartened than he was before, just to hold his beautiful little one and to look at his peacefully sleeping son.

Findiel had calmed down in her father's loving arms and Faramir again sat by the fire with Éowyn. "I shall be leaving to go to Pelargir with my father in two days," Faramir said simply, thinking it best to be straightforward.

"But i had thought you were going to Rivendell," Éowyn said surprised. "Is Pelargir not in the south of Gondor?"

"Aye, it is," Faramir said. "I have just learned this day of some trouble there. Atrocities is the word i should rather use." The Steward sounded disgusted. "Father and i will go with Gimli, Legolas, and Glorfindel, as well as a number of my former Rangers, to sort out this mess."

Faramir was right, Éowyn certainly did not appreciate the news. "Why must you go, Faramir, if so many others are going?"

"I go because i would see for myself that justice be done," he explained. "You did not mind that i would ride to Rivendell, why do you wish i stay now? Certainly you lack for nothing here."

"I did not mind you going to Rivendell because there was no danger in you going to Rivendell," Éowyn said with all of her typical fire. "What if something happens to you? And there is one thing that i and the children lack for quite often: your time."

Faramir sighed. Reasoning with his wife was never an easy task and he was already tired and longing for his bed which he knew he would only see for the next couple of nights. He held his daughter a little closer and noted that she was falling asleep. "I have lived through much worse than some trouble with soldiers. This is really more of a diplomatic situation than anything," Faramir said, staring into the fire.

Éowyn did not seem convinced though, and Faramir knew that she too had expected that there would be no call to ride off in such a way once the war was won. With his daughter in his arms and his wife beside him, Faramir felt for the first time in many years what it was like to be loath to leave someone. Putting his free arm around Éowyn's shoulders he looked into her eyes as he said, "Éowyn, i give you my word that things will be different when we move to Emyn Arnen. I will have a good deal less work to do there and i daresay i will be greatly more at ease there. You, too, should be more comfortable away from the most rigid of my society."

"Does that mean that there i might have someone to share my bed at night?" Éowyn questioned. "You can not know how weary i have grown of loneliness. So many nights i have wished only for your strong arms to hold me."

Faramir laughed softly. "If you desired strong arms, you should have known my brother." He leaned in to kiss his wife. "I, too, have longed for someone to hold me many a night. Perhaps we can set our own fashion in Emyn Arnen." It was then Éowyn's turn to steal a kiss from her husband. Faramir then rose and laid Findiel in her cradle and leaned in to kiss his sleeping son. "But tonight i must take my rest, meleth," he said to Éowyn, bidding her a good night and going back to his own chambers where he scarcely bothered to divest before crawling into bed and falling to sleep.

The next day passed by too quickly for the Steward. Faramir had decided instead of spending the majority of the day in his study that he would be happier to put his faith in Erestor as he had done in the past and rather spend the day with his children, giving their nurse the day off.

Faramir worked rather absently going over requisitions while Elboron and Findiel ones slept soundly in their nursery which adjoined Éowyn's bed chamber, every so often setting the paperwork aside to check on his little ones. He would miss them both dearly while he was away south and he hoped there would not be cause to stay away too long, though he had a feeling that Aragorn would probably not mind staying in the south until year's end.

Finishing with his work, Faramir picked up the book he had been reading, hoping to finish it before evening. He briefly wondered where Éowyn had been since morning, but he guessed that she was with her brother and left it at that. He was both right and wrong.

Éowyn had indeed been talking with Éomer, but at the moment she was on the way back to her chambers and enraged. Poor Faramir never saw it coming. When the front door slammed and nearly made his heart fail he guessed that _Narn I Hîn Húrin _would simply have to wait.

"Why was my brother not asked to join your party?" Éowyn demanded as a greeting.

For a moment Faramir just looked rather perplexed. 'Why _would_ Éomer have been asked' was the better question. "Éowyn, the matter does not concern Rohan. Certainly we would not want to ask Éomer do more than is necessary. Your brother has already given Gondor more than we could repay."

Éowyn only stared. "Then what you are saying is that you do not want his help."

"Of course i am not saying that," Faramir said, trying his best nottobecome defensive or withdrawn. "I am only saying that enough of us are going to handle the situation. I rather think that we already have more going than we need. This is Gondor's matter to settle and your brother need not be involved. Moreover, i do not think my cousin would appreciate me pulling her new husband from her so soon."

"Really?" Éowyn said wryly. "I rather think that she might thank you for it. It seems ladies from Dol Amroth also prefer to keep their own chambers. I suppose it is so in all of this kingdom."

"Yes, it is so," Faramir stated. "And as for your brother, if he thinks he can change my cousin's behaviors...."

"I do not know why he should wish to. I am sure that my brother is quite comfortable having a wife who refuses to touch him!" Éowyn said heatedly.

"Would you kindly keep your voice down!" Faramir hissed. "The children are asleep, you know."

"The children? Suddenly you care, do you? All day you spend closed in your study, working at your desk, maybe you stop to see them twice a day for a few moments. But suddenly you want me to be silent around them?! Go, Faramir. Go to your rest, you shall need it ere you take the long road south. And tell them they can keep you, since you think more for them than you do us!"

"Éowyn!" Faramir fairly thundered. "Do not tell me what i think!" Faramir's shout woke Findiel and she replied with a shout of her own. Faramir softened immediately and rushed to hold his little girl. "I love my children more than anything in all Middle-earth and i care for you, whether you see it or not. I would die for the three of you."

"Oh you must not! For if you did, who would your books have to read them at night?" she replied coldly as she turned to go to her bed, locking the door to her chamber and waiting until Faramir left via the hallway.

Faramir stared after her, thinking that she and Boromir would have been a much better match. A tug on his hair dispelled all his unpleasant thoughts though. A small laugh even escaped his lips as he patiently disentangled his daughter's fist from his hair. "You are growing much like your brother, o little beautiful one," he said, putting her back into her cradle. "And you, my little Elboron... if it is the influence of my brother that prompts you to pull my hair...," he said in mock-chastisement. "Ah, do not grow too much in my absence, please, _tithyn min_." Faramir left then, picking up his book on the way out and remembering to be grateful for this time when his children could not yet talk back.

---

_tithyn min - i improvised this from 'tithen min' (little one)to mean little ones, following the typical Tolkien pluralizing mode._

_grumpy:It is most certainly something that they need to take care of right away. I wouldn't rule out a trip to Rivendell later on though. I think Faramir is going to need it, in fact._

_linda: Glad you like it! I think it is coming along well so far. _


	6. En Route

Morning found Faramir sleepily sitting atop his horse with those who would be riding south. Sleep had been elusive through the night for the Steward as it usually was after an argument with his wife. He was dimly aware that Erestor was saying something, asking something, as he slowly tuned his attention back to the present.

"Your pardon, Master Erestor. I did not sleep well last night and unfortunately it seems i have gotten used to sleeping again," Faramir apologized with a smile.

"You would do well to stay used to it," Erestor replied. "I would tell Aragorn that he must allow for decent rest at night, he is notorious for not letting his travel companions get any rest. What i wanted to know was if you left any instruction with your lady."

Faramir's expression fell and he shook his head.

Erestor sighed. "Not another fight, Faramir?" Erestor knew exactly what is was like to be in love with the one person who had the most amazing ability to drive you mad. Faramir had no opportunity to respond before the nurse, Berethil, came out to where the assembly was, carrying Findiel and Elboron.

"My lord," she said bowing her head in deference. "My lady asked that i bring the children to see you before you left."

"Yet she would not come herself, Berethil?" Faramir asked, taking Elboron into his arms.

"No, my lord, she would not," said the aging woman. As Aragorn rode up in front of Faramir she knelt before him, still holding Findiel.

"Good morning, Berethil," Aragorn said cheerfully. "Here, allow me to bear the daughter of my Steward," he said reaching down and congratulating himself for getting used to calling his son his Steward in public. "Fare you well, small princess," the king whispered to the child, kissing her forehead which prompted her to gasp at Aragorn's beard.

Berethil was always touched by Aragorn's affection for his Steward's children, it was plain to her that he could scarcely wait for his own child to be born. Little did the elder woman realize that his Steward's children were his grandchildren, and that his anxiousness for Arwen to deliver had more to do with his hope that her moods would cease afterward.

Faramir held Elboron close and let him cling to his locks as much as he liked, for Faramir was one who knew well the importance of a child feeling loved and wanted. Aragorn noted that Findiel seemed jealous of her brother getting all of their father's hair and so he passed the little girl back to Faramir who held her in his other arm, giving her a soft kiss even as she clearly put all her strength behind a sharp tug. It was with a sigh that Faramir let Berethil take them again as the company began to depart.

Aragorn and Faramir rode at the lead and were quiet until there were out of the city, though the rest of the riders chattered as they would. Behind the King and Steward rode Legolas and Gimli and Glorfindel and then the Rangers from Ithilien. Once he was sure they were out of earshot of any who did not yet know, Aragorn leaned in and whispered to Faramir, "you are a good father, my son."

Faramir only smiled and said, "As are you, adar."

---

They were three days out and half way to their destination when the sky was filled with tiny white snowflakes just as the sun was setting. Camp was set up near enough to the Anduin to have access to the water but behind a screen of trees that helped to shield them from the chill air. Even that far south winter was not mild in that year.

That night Faramir and Aragorn lay awake in the tent they shared listening to the howling of the wind. It did not bring back pleasant memories to either of them. Faramir could remember being a child, just after his mother died, and thinking that the howling wind sounded like Nazgul had the city surrounded. Aragorn could remember a time not so long ago, only one winter ago in fact, that he and eight others, two of which were also on this quest, were in imminent danger of being eaten by wolves.

It was Aragorn who chose to break the silent and change the subject. "I noticed that Éowyn did not farewell you, but sent Berethil. Do i take it you two are not on speaking terms again?"

Faramir laughed sardonically. "If we are not then it is she who decided that, not i."

"What caused it this time?" Aragorn asked softly, hoping that he could offer some advice or help in some way.

"Mostly the fact that Éomer was not asked to come with us, if i read her correctly," Faramir said dully.

"This is not Rohan's affair. Why should he wish to come with us?" Aragorn wondered.

"I do not know," Faramir said honestly. "In fact, i said to Éowyn that i doubted he would want to leave Lothiriel so soon after their wedding, but that only sparked the old argument of Gondorian sleeping arrangements."

"Ah - that again! I have heard rumor that some are unhappy about the fact that Arwen and i keep the same quarters, i would imagine she is one of those?"

"I would imagine, though she has never said so. I do not know what i am to do, father," Faramir said, desperation in his voice. "I do love her dearly, of that i am now certain, but there are times when i simply wish i would see her no more. Just a month ago we had a truly terrible fight over languages. She was trying to teach me some Rohirric, but i just could not grasp it and so i asked her if perhaps she could send word to Éomer to bring a long a book or two for me to study."

At that Aragorn cringed, fairly certainly of what would come next.

"She flew into a rage and shouted at me for acting better than her. It was not until three days later that i stumbled upon the fact that Rohirric has no written language."

For a moment Aragorn was silent before he lifted his head and peered over at his son through the dark of night. "I am glad that you love her Faramir, for i know well that she also loves you. Our roads in life will often lead over rocky terrain, but if you are alert you will find that some of those rocks are there for a purpose - signals. I dread the day you will go to live in Emyn Arnen, and yet i know both that it is yet years off and that it will do immeasurable good for the two of you. You and Éowyn certainly need to preserve your individual freedoms, and i think in doing so you will also preserve the love that you hold for one another. I believe it is as they say: absence does make the heart grow fonder."

"I hope you are right, my father," Faramir said, drawing the fur blanket closer around him and taking comfort in the knowledge that there were no longer any Nazgul to cause that howling in the wind.

---

_Happy Thanksgiving to all my readers! _

_linda: Yes, Faramir and Eowyn are star-crossed lovers. Their personalities are just too strong. I always got the impression while reading the book that she really did not feel as greatly as Faramir did for her. There just seems to be a lot of evasion and a lot of second-guessing on her part._

_Elenhin: It is a little confusing, older vs. younger Faramir, that might have been intentional, i'm not sure. I just loved the idea so much that i had to go with it. There may be some more of younger Faramir. I hadn't had that planned, but we shall see if i can do more with him. As for Fara's kids... they are really cute. I like them a lot. It's not easy writing three month olds. All they do is sleep, eat, cry, and grab things. But since they are Faramir's children, they are automatically adorable!_

_Voldie: Glad you are pleased so far! My comment on your intelligence was in response to your bio information about your political tendencies - much the same as mine... but for the sake of Elbereth, let us not get into that can of worms!_

_Yes i did mention Narn I Hin Hurin and i am absolutely thrilled that someone picked up on that! You get a gold star!_


	7. Temporary Escape

It was the dawning of the fifth day since the King's party had left the city and all was running very smoothly. Though Erestor had briefly feared that the situation would turn like it had the last time both King and Steward were gone, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he was able to get more done for Faramir than ever before. Arwen was still in the city, and thus the people accepted Erestor filling in for Faramir in all but title, and better still, Glorfindel had gone too. Though the advisor knew he would start to miss him after a couple of weeks, at the moment he enjoyed having the whole bed all to himself. Lately he had begun to think he liked the Balrog-slayer better when he hated him.

That afternoon found some sunlight and warmth returning to winter-leaguered city, prompting Éowyn to take a ride with her brother while Lothiriel and Arwen looked after the twins. She felt she could not spend one more hour in that city without getting away for a while.

Éomer insisted that he join her, though he did not tell her that his motive was to keep an eye on her. He was convinced that after she was so angry that he was not asked to ride south that she might well try to sneak away to join them herself. In fact, Éomer was very impressed that she had not already done so and wondered if living in Minas Tirith with a husband and two children had done the impossible: namely, tame his wild sibling. By all accounts, she had not even mentioned wanting to be asked to join them.

"How is the Golden Hall since last i saw it, Éomer?" his sister asked suddenly out of the quietness that they had been riding in. Éomer noted the longing in her tone.

"Nothing has changed yet, Éowyn. Why do you ask?" Éomer said carefully.

"There was so much freedom there. I understand now why Eorl founded Rohan. No one was ever better than anyone else there. Yes, there was rank and respect for rank, but there was not such ceremony as this place. Here i can not leave my own chambers without having my hair braided correctly for the occasion," she said, tugging at the ribbon in her hair and throwing it to the ground, letting her hair flow free in the wind.

Her pitch was steadily raising with every sentence. "Everything here has to be perfect. Especially Faramir. At times he can seem so realistic, but more often than not when i see him it is as though every movement of his is carefully composed just so. Even worse than his actions are his words. He never says what he is thinking, i can tell. Every word i have heard from his is framed to sound truthful, yet pleasing, and he speaks so with others too. Sometimes his manner of speech reminds me of that _worm_," she said with utter disgust. "Though when he acts so it does not seem that he would bend others to his will, but that he would bend to others' wills. It infuriates me that he will not just say what he feels! I do not want my children to grow up this way!"

Éomer took a deep breath and disregarded the thought of his sister being tamed. "Eowyn... dear," he said carefully, "have you ever discussed this with Faramir? Your husband and i have not always gotten along well, but he may have his reasons for how he acts. I am very sure that he wants your children to grow up happy. From all that i have heard from his cousin he did not have a joyful childhood as we had."

"As we had? Perhaps you do not remember mother and father dying!" Éowyn shouted.

Éomer looked grave. "I remember and i still grieve to this day, i shall never stop grieving. But we were joyful too, Éowyn. Do you not remember all the time we spent with Theodred? He taught you everything you know about swordplay, and i daresay he was rather sorry he did, for he never won against you after that. We always had each other, as a family we were closer than any i have met since. Faramir rarely saw his cousin and uncle and when he did it was not usually on glad occasion. Surely you must realize, too, that it is going on two years since Faramir last saw his brother alive and over a year since his death. I know how i would feel if i lost you."

"You shan't lose me, Éomer!" Éowyn cried as Éomer drew his horse beside hers and held his sister. "And you must promise me that i shan't lose you," she said, slowly drawing back.

Éomer smiled sadly. "That is a promise that none can make and expect to keep, my sister. But i can promise you that i shall at least try not to be overly hasty."

"That is a quite a promise, coming from you!" she taunted him with a slightly less sad smile of her own.

"Aye, i suppose it is," Éomer conceded. "But come, one thing they do right in this stone city is serve a feast, and i grow hungry out here!"

Éowyn laughed. "The cooks fear your coming, Éomer. They say it is worse than when the Halflings were here."

"You go too far, sister!" Éomer said in mock rage, chasing her back across the Pelennor, their laughter echoing.

They slowed to a trot and let laughter subside as they neared the North Gate and noticed a couple of men riding in, seemingly from toward the river. As they drew closer Éomer was able to identify them as men from the south and he bid Éowyn to go inside the city.

"I will not," she said defiantly. "If they mean to have a fight, we shall give them one - together," she said, drawing a short sword from under her cloak with a smirk.

---

_Finally able to post again! If i am in a writing mood tomorrow next chapter may be up tomorrow night. If not, it might be a few days before we see what happenswith the brother and sister._

_linda: Faramir and Eowyn are beginning to understand each other a little better. They definitely did not understand one another at first and for two people who have gone through a lot of difficulties to not really understand each other... it just doesn't spell a good situation._

_liz: Children of Hurin is definitely a good one to read if you are feeling overly happy. In fact, the Silmarillion in general is just downright unhappy, but in a wisdom-producing sort of way, if you get my meaning. _

_Anyway... Fara' would never drop Eowyn down a well, no he would never do that. Though sometimes he may wish he could dive into the well himself, Faramir would never drop her down a well. Nope, he wouldn't. Ahem...._

_If you really like my Erestor, i encourage you to have a look at Ripples of Chaos. Erestor comes over very well in that, if i do say so._


	8. What Once Was

It was warm. No, hot. And it seemed to be growing hotter. It was the kind of heat that feels like it is consuming you. There was a heaviness to everything, to even the air. There was light, but it was a light that seemed angry, not calming or renewing. There was a sound that could not be distinguished, but it sounded powerful, like a rushing of wind. There were also shouts, but neither could those be distinguished. It was raging all about him and he was powerless to escape. Sweat beaded on his brow as he frantically tried to fight through the fog in his mind to find a way to get away.

"Faramir! Wake up!" Aragorn called anxiously. His son woke suddenly, sitting up and grasping the arms of the one who had shaken him in the same motion. It took a moment or two before he realized that he was still in their tent on the road south. "You were dreaming," Aragorn said, sitting back. "Have you often dreamed like that?"

Faramir shook his head slowly. "No, father, i never have. I do not know what happened, but something was wrong in that dream. Something was happening to me. It was so hot, as though i had a fever, or i was sitting too near a blaze."

Aragorn looked at his son for a long moment before saying anything. "I think you are essentially beginning to remember what happened the day Denethor died." Aragorn then fell quiet for a moment and looked pensive. "At times i would that he would have been the stronger of us."

Faramir looked at his father and asked him, "What can you mean by that?"

Again, the King was silent for a while. "Do you remember Pippin telling you that when he came to Minas Tirith with Gandalf and met Denethor that he was reminded more of me than of Boromir?"

Faramir nodded. "Aye, i do remember him saying that, though i found it quite curious at the time and i certainly do now. You are nothing like he ever was."

"Have you ever compared the two of us physically?" Aragorn said. "It never fails to amaze me how different members of the same family can be. Sometimes the similarities are subtle, only to be picked up by one of as unassuming as a young Hobbit."

"What are you saying, father?" Faramir asked cautiously.

"My mother and father were wed in the year 2929. In that same yearheir Ecthelion paid a visit to an area then called Cardolan, the most southerly of the Dunedain regions. It so happened that the Steward-to-be was present at the wedding." Aragorn stopped and took a long drag on his pipe, which he had brought out from his pack. "He so chose to bless the marriage, personally. Nine months laterhis adjutant showed up in their camp and my mother never again saw her firstborn child. My father would have killed Ecthelion, heir to the Stewardship or not, but that the coward fled immediately. He would have killed his sycophantic abettor as well, but that he came in the night while the Rangers were well away, chasing down orcs. In the 13 years that i have known this, i have never spoken of it in any manner."

"You and he were half-brothers?" Faramir said quietly after a long minute.

Aragorn nodded, taking another drag. "I do not believe he ever knew it though. He recognized some sort of similarity between us, as i did also at that time, but for Denethor it only turned him against me. And mine," he added unhappily. "I did not know of it until the last time i saw my mother, but by then it was far too late for me to do anything about. I often wonder if Sauron did not reveal it to him, or if he knew."

"I could not say what ever might have been exposed to him in the palantír, but anything that was only ever made him suspicious. I have reason to believe he began to use to just after my mother's death. It nearly caused the fall of all Middle-earth," Faramir said contemplatively as he reckoned with this new information.

"Sauron so controlled that palantír because it was so dangerously near. I truly do not believe that he even controlled the stone in Isengard as entirely as he did the one in the white tower. Denethor really was strong to resist totally submitting to Mordor and at the last it only had him broken to the point of fleeing. And yet even that was too much, even a little despair is venomous."

Aragorn stopped again to inhale the sweet galenas. "I have tried to use that stone several times since and usually all i can see are burning hands. I have thought that perhaps if it might be sent back to Tol Eressa it might work again, though i do not know if my father is willing to take such a thing. But let us not talk of such evil things. We should arrive in Pelargir by midday tomorrow if we leave here quickly, and i hope that this shall not take long. I begin to miss my grandchildren, and i believe i have finally grown accustomed to sleeping in a proper bed again. Either that or i am simply grown too old at last for this camping nonsense."

Faramir smiled as he drifted back into a more peaceful sleep, deciding he would have much time to ponder things later and thinking that he himself had grown too old for camping in the cold several years ago.

_Voldie: You rock too, but exhaustion does not._

_liz: I read all reviews and consider them. I didn't used to respond to them all, but since i put them at the end of the story, i allow myself to now. It just never wanted AN's to get in the way of the story._

_I really don't think Eowyn is ready for the wife/mother thing. She is actually only about 24 and i do not get the impression that her life has in anyway prepared her to take on such responsibilities yet. She tried to give up her "wild and free" lifestyle for Faramir, but that is much easier said than done and isn't going to happen overnight._

_Yes, Ripples can be found on my profile page. Enjoy!_

_grumpy: No, there was no reason for Eomer to go, but i think in Eowyn's reasoning he is her brother and Aragorn's friend and thus should have been asked. Don't ask me why. Perhaps because Legolas, Gimli, and Glorfindel are going along as well. As for Eowyn looking for fights, i'm not so sure it's that as much as it is thatshe is susceptible to conflict and misreading situations._

_Did everyone enjoy the crash course on palantiri? Good... it is essentially useless to the storyline, but another interesting element none the less. What about old Denethor's skeleton in the closet? That, too, is essentially meaningless, except that i thought it was an interesting explanation for the following: "Pippin saw his carven face with its proud bones and skin like ivory, and the long curved nose between the deep dark eyes; and he was reminded not so much of Boromir as of Aragorn." -The Return of the King, Book 5, Chapter 1._


	9. Travelers

Éomer and Éowyn sat atop their horses, weapons drawn defensively, as the other two riders came close. Éomer rode slightly forward of Éowyn, who quickly closed the gap again. In an unyielding voice Éowyn commanded them to halt. They complied immediately and, much to her brother's annoyance, she rode further ahead of Éomer to question them.

"What is your business in Gondor?" she demanded.

The two strangers looked at her, then to Éomer, and back to Éowyn again. "One might ask what business a lady has acting as a guard," one of them said, not entirely disrespectfully.

Fortunately for the strangers Éomer read the situation and was able to again jockey ahead of his sister to cut off her outburst before it began. "Lords of the South, i am King Éomer of Rohan. This is my sister, the Lady Éowyn, whose husband is Steward of Gondor," Éomer explained, taking pity on the unsuspecting strangers.

Quickly the two southerners dismounted and knelt, begging pardon, which was granted. Éomer bid them rise and again asked them, a little more genially, what their purpose was. It was rather amazing how quickly he had gone from rash warrior to consummate diplomat.

"We have come to seek the Steward, as it so happens. Allow me to introduce myself," said one of the men. "I am called Castamir, and i again beg the pardon of the fair Lady Éowyn," the dark man said genteelly bowing.

"And i, Calimehtar, also beg the pardon of the Lady, fair and fine," spoke the other man, every bit as courteously.

"I accept your apologies, but i am afraid that the Steward is away, and may be for some time," Éowyn said flatly.

Éomer noted the touch of distrust in his sister's voice and thought he had best take over again. After all, Aragorn had made peace with these people, so he had heard. "He and King Elessar seemed to have urgent business in your southerly lands. But if you will, we can take you to Queen Arwen, perhaps she can aid you?"

The two men were silent for a moment and looked at one another as if making a decision. Finally Castamir spoke, "We should not wish to trouble your Queen. If we could but take lodging in the city until the good Steward returns?"

Éomer, unfortunately, had to look to Éowyn to give her answer, though he was wary. She stared back at her brother in response. "I am sure we can find lodging for you. There is an inn on the fourth level, is there not?"

"You would know better than i, dear sister," Éomer replied, backing out of knowing anything at all about that certain tavern.

Éowyn turned quickly and silently and went toward the North Gate, Éomer bidding the visitors to follow. He caught up with his sister just as they were entering the city. "And think, you would have had them run through before learning their purpose," he whispered teasingly.

Éowyn glared at her brother and returned his whisper tersely. "I do not trust everyone simply because there is an accord written on a scroll somewhere. You should be more vigilant!"

"And you should be less intolerant," Éomer retorted, still keeping his tone low. "Can you really believe that all men of the South would have warred against us willingly? I do not know what you have learned, and i know that Faramir and i disagree on much, but i have come to understand what he says about respecting even one's enemy. How many of those Haradrim were lied to or forced into going to war against us?" Éomer then rode on ahead of Éowyn, bidding her to return to the Citadel while he lead Minas Tirith's guests to the Merry Widow where they might stay until the King and Steward returned.

Infuriated, Éowyn galloped past them without even bidding the visitors a good day. Éomer turned to Calimehtar and Castamir, offering his apologies.

"Your sister, she is a free woman indeed," Calimehtar said. "It is only to be understood that she is wary, there has been enmity for so long. But it is that which we seek to put an end to, and we had hoped to have the good Steward's help."

Éomer considered only briefly before replying, "Lord Faramir is a man of overreaching compassion. It is because of such that he is away at this time. I feel certain that he will assist you however he may upon his return. He did not expect to be away long, a month at most and he has been gone several days now. I hope that you shall stay. King Elessar is a friend and ally to me, and on his behalf, i bid you welcome."

"We shall stay, King Éomer, until our purpose is fulfilled," Castamir said with a friendly smile and Éomer led them into the tavern.

---

_I know, these lastchapters have been short. But on the up side, that means posting more often. Still, i hope everyone is enjoying :)_

_linda: I doubt she was really cut out for life in Minas Tirith. It can still be hoped, though, that the home Faramir has been planning in Emyn Arnen would be better for her. We shall have to see. I think her childhood was at least more bearable than Faramir's. Yes, she had expectations upon her to be a lady of the court, i would suppose, when she wanted to go to battle, but i personally can't imagine that being harder than being expected to go to battle when all you want to do is learn. _

_As for Aragorn and Denethor, i definitely thought that they could have been related. I'm not sure how central this is to this story, but i wanted to bring it up anyway. Just one of those "shadows" of chaos. Perhaps i shall write more on this separately._

_Faramir's nightmare... he will have more nightmares ahead, for definite. Only he won't be merely sleeping!_


	10. The Resemblence is Uncanny

The sun was just over its peak and the day was growing much warmer when Aragorn's company arrived at the city of Pelargir, the second time in a year for three of them. In fact, it was very nearly a year exactly.

To first look at the city, no one would know that there was anything amiss. Looking around, Legolas seemed to perceive something that ordinary senses passed over. "Much wrong has been done here," he said quietly to Aragorn. "I like the feel of this place less than i did last year."

Aragorn nodded grimly, and it struck him just how little had really changed since he was last here with the Grey Company. "Last year there was war and battle. This year there should be peace. The innocent are slain by those who i sent to keep peace, and that is what i am here to correct," he said with determination, although he was somewhat unsure of exactly how to go about it. Was he just to wait until the next foreigner was slaughtered? Aragorn turned then to Faramir and spoke in a whisper. "Our Rangers should disperse, but we may need them near. See if they can not conceal themselves about the city, but tell them to be on alert. We may be dealing with an insurrection."

Faramir nodded and relayed the information to those he was once captain of. As the Rangers began to part Faramir noticed another soldier of Gondor further along, and pointed him out to Aragorn.

"This should prove interesting," said the King to the Steward after beckoning the soldier toward them. The soldier of Gondor answered Aragorn's gesture at once. Though neither he nor Faramir wore any symbols of rank on this journey, the solider recognized his King and Steward immediately, stopping in his tracks and kneeling before them.

"Rise, son of Gondor," Aragorn said. "What is your name?"

"I am Herion, my liege, humble lieutenant of your royal company," the man said, bowing low.

"Lieutenant Herion, if you will, kindly call the men of your company to assembly," Faramir said.

"My lord," said Herion, again bowing.

"Oh, Herion...," Aragorn said as the soldier began to rush off to gather his fellows, "where do you lodge?"

Stopping again suddenly, Herion turned and replied, "wherever there are quarters to be had, sire."

Aragorn nodded, still looking quite grim, and dismissed the soldier. He waited in silence as soldiers one by one gathered there in the village. Most were shocked and awed to see the King and Steward, as well as their Elven and Dwarven companions. Faramir had turned and was in discussion with Glorfindel, Legolas, and Gimli, taking no note of those filling the streets until they had all assembled.

When Faramir came again beside his father Aragorn looked unwell, or perhaps in a distant memory. Maybe both. He laid a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention only temporarily. Aragorn appeared taller again and there was more clarity in his gaze, but he did not yet speak and his glance went curious again as he looked over those gathered.

Faramir gathered that something was not quite right. "Do you want me to -" he began to ask quietly. Just then he looked to follow his father's gaze and Faramir, too, faltered. Suddenly he too was wrapped in the fog of memory. Faramir caught himself just as tears began to prick at his eyes and he trotted away for a moment or two. The other three riders had noticed what, or rather who, the King and Steward had been staring at some while ago, but none of them said aught.

Finally Aragorn managed to gather his thoughts and he went to Faramir. "Perhaps we should take care of this later?" he whispered.

Faramir shook his head and quickly hid the evidence of his emotions as he had grown so adept at doing over the years. "This must be taken care of immediately, adar, we both know that."

Aragorn nodded and turned his attention to the soldiers awaiting. The King delivered a moving speech first entirely in Quenya, then Sindarin, and even an abridged version in Khuzdul that impressed Gimli to no end, considering the fact that it was supposed to be a secret language. Aragorn then turned to leave, seeing the utterly confused faces of the soldiers. Some seemed to understand some parts of the Sindarin speech, but only some. But then he turned around again, removing a scroll and asking for the one named Belthil to step forward.

It was as Aragorn and Faramir had both hoped and feared, the soldier they had been staring at. Aragorn nodded and bid the young man to follow them, and as he started away once more he looked back and said, "if you want to know what i just said, three times over, you may ask these three," indicating Glorfindel, Legolas, and Gimli. "But do not be surprised if they refuse to answer you in common tongue, for none were raised speaking as we were. And i would be rather careful about your replies, should they ask you anything."

The King and the Steward rode away with the bidden soldier following them. Once they had gone a fair enough distance Aragorn turned to Belthil and asked him where they might find accommodations. He took them to an inn by the river and explained that it was the finest he had seen so far in Pelargir. Going inside Faramir secured lodging for the three of them before they went to the common room for a much needed drink and discussion.

Taking refuge in a quiet corner and glad that no one other than the soldiers he had personally dispatched recognized him in this place, Aragorn withdrew the missive the young soldier had sent to his King. "I want to thank you for alerting me to this Berthil," he said. "I intend to stay here for perhaps a couple of weeks and ensure that this matter is put to rest, but i would like to know more about the young soldier who was brave enough to pass by the channels that would have denied this to bring the issue directly to my attention. I know all too well how such things work in some companies, and i appreciate such courage and conviction in one so young. What is your age?" Aragorn, in his subtle way would slowly learn all that he needed to know to tell him if his suspicions were accurate.

"I have seen 19 winters thus far, my liege," Belthil answered. "I would like to thank you, your majesty, for your kind words. I only felt that i was doing what i was duty-bound to do. Did the boy, young Faramir, did he arrive well?"

For this the Steward answered. "Aye, he did. I do not believe he will be returning to the company though. The King has granted him leave of service. He was able to confirm everything you reported."

"Leave of service?" Belthil said astonished. "You are merciful as they say, indeed, my liege!"

"I simply do not believe that a boy of 13 should be taken from his family and pressed into service far from his home in times of peace," Aragorn said, managed to disguise his disgust at the situation.

Belthil looked relieved, but it could be seen that it was bittersweet. "I watched after him all i could. He became like a little brother to me."

At that Faramir smiled sadly, and Aragorn decided to find out once and for all. "Who is your father, Belthil?" the King asked, shrouding his blunt question as mere curiosity.

Belthil broke eye contact with Aragorn to stare at a spot of nothingness directly over his ale. "I do not know, your majesty. My mother died when i was a child and from what i can tell, my father did as well."

Faramir exhaled a breath he was not aware he had been holding. Suddenly, the Steward felt extremely disappointed. "What can you tell us?" Faramir asked quietly.

"I honestly do not even know his name," Belthil said, sounding ashamed. "Of my mother i know but a little more. She raised me on her own in a small home in the land of Lossarnach by the generosity of the good Lord Forlong. I was grieved to hear of his death, for he was good to us. I fought for him at Pelennor, but i was taken down with a wound and someone was good enough to get me off the field to headed to the healing houses in the fair city. I wish i could have thanked him, though i do doubt he survived either, he was quite elderly and not dressed as a soldier but a traveler. I thought at first of the tales i have heard of the White Wizard of Isengard, but surely that would have been impossible. Perhaps it was only an effect of the fever."

Belthil stopped when he saw Aragorn and Faramir exchanged interested glances. "Forgive me, Lords, i have said too much," the young man said humbly.

"No, indeed," Aragorn said quickly. "Say on!"

Belthil nodded, wondering why the King and Steward of Gondor were interested in his tale. But none the less, he certainly would not deny them. "My mother died when i was of but 10 years. It was then i learned that my mother was born and raised in Lossarnach, but has gone to Minas Tirith for several years. Her cousin and her family took me in, but it was clearly out of charity, for they never treated me as one of their own and never would answer any of my questions about either my mother or father. I do not know why they could not speak of my mother, but i guessed that they never knew my father. Mother very rarely spoke of him either, but i know that he was a soldier in Minas Tirith, and likely of rank for mother told me that i was so named because of the insignia of the White Tree which he wore at all times. I can only guess that my father was very frequently away, and that perhaps he died even before my birth."

Both father and son were silent for a while before Faramir asked, "What was your mother's name?"

"She was called Imloth, my Lord," Belthil replied.

Faramir searched his memory, but was finding it fruitless at the moment. The day had grown into night and at that moment all Faramir really wanted to do was sleep in a real bed again. He excused himself to leave and Aragorn nodded, but gently caught his sleeve and said in a low voice, "_le tyava quel?_" Faramir simply nodded and continued on.

Laying down in his bed the Steward felt much relaxed in body, but not in mind. He tried over and over and over to place the name Imloth, but he just could not say for certain that he knew that name. He felt almost desperate. Everything else made perfect sense and Faramir felt that if he could just place the woman's name, he could be positive, but Faramir guarded closely again believing something only because he dearly wished it could be. And yet, the resemblance was just too much the same.... Faramir simply could not shake it, no matter how he wished to let it go until he had taken some rest - Belthil looked _exactly_ like Boromir.

---

_Ah! And so the plot does thicken! Chapter length should make up for the last few._

_For some reason i can't look at the last notes i left... anyone else having this trouble? Everything after Chapter 1 tells me that the site isn't responding (what else is new?). So anyway, pardon me if i have already left a reply or if i missed one. I also apologize for this weird thing the site had been doing, runningwordsalltogether (yeah, i did that on purpose). I can assure you, i didn't make those mistakes!_

_grumpy: Faramir has had worse dreams, and he may well have much worse dreams yet to come. I think that there is a real possibility that Aragorn and Denethor might have been related. I toyed with the idea of them being cousins, but that just doesn't have the same intrigue. All in all, it has little or no impact on the story in actuality. I think. Unless the plot bunnies decide it does. Buti must wonder what ideas Tolkien played with!_

_linda: Yeah, Eomer is getting the hang of the whole ruler of the entire country thing. He's gotten a lot more diplomatic and is much less hasty these days. I definitely think that once the War was ended Faramir finally got to have the kind of life he so wanted, quiet and peaceful and filled with learning. I would think he gave up the military life altogether and kept the Office of the Steward amainly clerical one. Of course... there may be much learning in store for our Steward, but about the quiet and peace... i have my doubts :)_


	11. The Ride of the Shieldmaiden

The evening that the two envoys arrived, Éomer decided to try to make amends for his sister's suspicious behavior by inviting Castamir and Calimehtar to join him in his evening meal. At supper Éowyn sat as close to her brother and as far from the two foreigners as possible. Lothíriel, on the other hand, was quite engaged in discussion with them. Éowyn found that kind of trust to be pitiful.

The guests departed, after the meal was extended with a few draughts of ale, and Lothíriel had also gone to visit the other Queen, leaving the brother and sister to talk. Éomer leaned back, looking intently at his sister. "You see," he said, "they are just visitors, that is all. They want to discuss something with your husband, not kill us all."

Éowyn did not look convinced. "If they want so badly to discuss something of such importance as to seek Faramir, why do they not wish to see Arwen?"

Éomer chuckled, much to his sister's annoyance. "Perhaps they know what a expectant she-Elf is like. If what Aragorn has told me is true -"

"You all think she has been unreasonable, but i do not. If Faramir promised me that he would be back before moonrise and he was not i would be livid too. She has a right to expect that her husband will be true to his word. You men are all the same!" she said heatedly, standing and all but marching out of the dining hall in anger.

Éomer silently lifted his goblet in a toast to his brother-in-law's bravery and decided to go have a look at his niece and nephew, hoping that they would not take on their mother's temper.

Éowyn went directly to the 6th level stables, deciding that a ride would do her well. She always felt more comforted with her horse than she did other people. Windfola never questioned or doubted her.

As she was adjusting the reins and saddle, a smooth voice greeting her caused her to draw her sword almost involuntarily. Since last summer Éowyn was still uncomfortable being in a stable alone, though she refused to let anyone know it.

"My apologies, fair Lady, i did not intend to frighten you," Castamir said, bowing in request for forgiveness as was the custom in Harad. Éowyn said nothing though, and Castamir approached cautiously. "I, too, came to escape the city for a time," he said, "perhaps i might accompany you? A lady should not ride alone in the night."

"I can take care of myself," she practically spat. Yet she was not sure that she wanted to refuse the request. Neither Castamir nor Calimehtar seemed to have any sort of maliciousness about them, and Éowyn was beginning to feel guilty for judging them so quickly. She decided she would allow Castamir to ride with her, reasoning that she could at least defend herself better on horseback than alone in a stable, if it came to that. Even though she knew well that there were always many riders stationed nearby.

Departing the city, Éowyn decided to ride toward the river for a while. If Castamir so desired to join her it would be up to him, but she said nothing and her companion did not seem to mind her silence. She thought it rather a relief as compared to always being asked by Faramir if she was well at times when she preferred to be quiet. Though he asked out of concern, most times she had taken it for an acerbic remark.

After some while of watching the stars reflections go rushing by in the stream of the Anduin, Éowyn turned to go back home. It was only a moment before her guest attendant caught up with her. "You are a truly brave woman, Lady Éowyn," Castamir said honestly. "I greatly admire you for that." Night had fallen deep and dark and Éowyn did not see the little smile he wore.

She was quiet still for a moment, before replying, "I have had to be brave, Lord Castamir, i have not had another choice. Though others would surely prefer it had i had."

Castamir spoke again, this time just a little softer. "It is difficult for me to imagine anyone thinking that you should be any different. A fire dwells in your heart, fair Lady. Surely it is not the Steward who wishes you to be otherwise?"

As she rode on Éowyn considered Castamir's question. "I once thought he did not, but now i am inclined to think differently. Faramir is a man for whom public appearance is a matter of great importance. He seems to feel that one must always live up to, and indeed significantly exceed, the expectations of others to be of any worth. I believe that i am seen as a disgrace to him and likely to all of this kingdom. Men of Gondor are expected to take wives who do little and speak less, and from all i can tell, the only purpose marriage in Gondor has is the propagation of the kingdom. Though, it is not always necessary for that either."

Before she realized it, Éowyn was pouring out her thoughts to this stranger from the south. Fortunately they had come again to the city gates and she had an excuse to stop her tirade. "I offer my apologies, Lord Castamir," she said. "I hope i did not give you the wrong impression of my husband. He is the finest diplomat in Middle-earth and a very generous man. I am sure that he will see you and assist you immediately upon his return. Allow me to thank you for accompanying me, this evening."

"I allow it and more, fair Lady Éowyn! To receive thanks from you is being granted an honor. Though, the highest honor would be to have your permission to accompany you again soon," he said sounding hopeful.

Éowyn smiled broadly. "I should like that, my Lord. I will seek for you the next time i wish to ride."

Castamir thanked her and bowed deeply, whereupon he parted to return to the Merry Widow as she went onward to home and her children who she now hoped had not missed her too greatly.

---

_linda: Yeah, i think he got his point across pretty well. He intends to stay around for a little while longer, just to make sure, though. _

_I think the chapter will include more on Faramir and Belthil. It willdefinitely be a bit of good inFaramir's life, to have a connection to his beloved brother. The Steward is going to be in need ofsuch bits of good before too long. _

_grumpy: You don't seem very grumpy to me, you always give me good reviews! Anyway, i definitely think Boromir could have produced kids. He was 41 when he was killed, it really just stands to reason._

_To those who have not read Chaos Theory (found on my bio page thingy) the next chapter will relate to a scene from that story. You might want to read Chapter 50, Mother Dear, No One Cares About Love, but i will do all i can to make it not a necessity._


	12. Confidence

When Éowyn returned to her chamber she found there her brother cradling his niece. Éomer gently returned Findiel to her crib before even looking at his sister. "It is rather late," he said blankly.

"Aye, it is late, Éomer." She sounded a bit defensive. "And since it is late i would like to take my rest now, if you would be so kind," she said motioning toward the door."

Instead of leaving, Éomer stepped toward his sister. "I would be so kind, however i can not be at the moment. Are you mad, Éowyn? Perhaps living in this place has actually driven you to madness, it seems this place has that effect on people."

Éowyn's hands were firmly rested on her hips, proving that even if she was mad, she was still herself. "I think it is you who is mad, Éomer. First you berate me for not trusting them, then you call me mad for riding out with Lord Castamir. And how do you know? If you tell me that you have sent spies...."

Éomer rolled his eyes. "What need have i of spies? You do not hide your actions. Anyone in Minas Tirith could have witnessed that. Éowyn, i invited those men to our table in a gesture of diplomacy, not to ride with my sister at night. Mayhap you do not realize what the consequences of that could be, even if those men are as trustworthy as they seem? Faramir does not need to come home to be branded a cuckold. Furthermore, what if they are not so honorable?"

"I have done nothing inappropriate and i can defend myself!" she shouted back.

"Can you, sister?" Éomer said sadly. He would not soon forget killing the captain of the Rohirrim who had cornered his sister in a stable. The wounds he received were only just properly healed. It was dangerous grounds for the King of Rohan to tread and he knew that. The furious slap he received did not entirely surprise him, but he had not anticipated his sister's next words.

"I will ride when and where, and with whom, i choose, Éomer. You are not my keeper, that is a title none can claim. Neither you nor anyone else can tell me what to do. I have already given up many of my dreams for others and i shall yield no more! Now go and leave me in peace!"

The next day she broke her fast in her chambers and when Berethil came in, Éowyn told her that she would be away for a while. Kissing her twins and taking up her riding cloak, she left to find Castamir to invite him to ride.

Éowyn thought her brother was being preposterous to be so worried about reputation, anyone could see that something as harmless as a ride meant nothing. Éowyn had vowed to herself that she would no longer be concerned with what Gondor's society thought of her. She was thoroughly tired of not being good enough for them.

"Lady Éowyn!" Castamir called cheerfully, bowing when he saw her approaching the inn.

"Good morning, Lord Castamir," Éowyn said. "How does this day find you and your friend?"

"I can not speak for anyone but myself, Lady. But since i have seen you, this day has found me well indeed," the foreigner said, laying a simple kiss to her fingers, and causing her blush against her will.

"Your words are gentle, Lord Castamir. May i ask if you would like to ride with me again today?" she said.

"You need not ask, my Lady. You have only to tell me that you shall be going and i shall follow," Castamir said and disappeared momentarily into the stable adjoining the inn. Éowyn noticed that his horse was already tacked, but ignored it.

They rode in companionable silence for some while, again toward the river, until Éowyn's curiosity got the best of her. "Lord Castamir, can you not tell me of what you come to discuss with Faramir? Or perhaps you can speak with Lord Erestor. He has assisted Faramir since last summer and i understand that he was prominent in Lord Elrond's house."

"An Elf?" Castamir asked surprised.

"Yes," Éowyn replied. "He and Lord Glorfindel remained here in Minas Tirith when the rest of the Elves departed with the funeral march of Théoden, my uncle. They are friends of the Queen."

"I see," Castamir said sounding fascinated. "Alas, no, my dear Lady, i was entrusted to bear my words to the Steward of Gondor alone. I certainly do not mind though, for as long as i must wait, i may at least have the comfort of knowing that one so fair dwells near."

Éowyn seemed to except his answer and from there their talk turned to other things. Castamir spoke of how different Harad was from the northern lands of Gondor, and Éowyn wondered just how vast Middle-earth was; she had always referred to Gondor as the south.

Éowyn spoke more of Faramir, hoping to void any misrepresentation she might have given of him the night before. She also spoke of her two greatest joys, Findiel and Elboron. Castamir was quite interested in all that Éowyn had to say. She rather amazed herself with her uncharacteristic loquaciousness, but attributed it to the fact that she so rarely had anyone new to talk to.

As they returned back to the city at mid-day, Éowyn was nearly tempted to take her new friend to meet her children, but she thought better of it and decided to invite him and Calimehtar to dine with them again that evening. Castamir accepted at once and excused him to seek his companion to let him know of the invitation. Éowyn returned to the Citadel feeling much assuaged of the restlessness she felt that morning.

Castamir found Calimehtarin their room in the innand relayed to him word of the invitation. The other man of Harad merely smiled. "That was much faster than i expected, Castamir. Your charms have not waned."

"Will you have the draught ready that soon?" Castamir asked apprehensively.

Calimehtar laughed softly. "I have been working on it since i saw you riding with the lady last evening. The timing is wonderful really. By tonight it will be very heady, yet still taste- and scentless. Furthermore, if the Steward keeps to his schedule, we should be able to make it to Rhûn before he returns."

"We shall have to make our exodus without delay and, moreover, without being noticed," Castamir pointed out.

"Worry not, my friend. If we depart just after moonset we will have plenty of cover. It should be the third hour past midnight then and just about when this," he held up a small vial, "will really begin to take effect. It will only take just a bit," he said holding up an odd ring.

Castamir nodded. "We must be extremely careful. I have just learned today that this city is crawling with Elves. Besides the Queen, the lady spoke of two others, also from the house of Elrond."

Calimehtar laughed at that. "Elves? Castamir, Elves count for nothing anymore. Their time is finished, they are powerless. Middle-earth is the domain of Men now, and if we succeed in our mission, it will be the domain of the Haradrim."

Castamir was still wary though. "So, yes, the Elves may not be as powerful as once they were, but suppose the leaders choose against supporting our faction? What if they desire rather to make lasting peace with Gondor?"

"If they do then they declare themselves too weak to fight. If the leaders will do nothing for our people, we must," Calimehtar said angrily. "Gondor does not intend to make real peace for more than a few years. Then they will come and claim our lands as theirs according to some ancient scrap of parchment. Would you have these Gondorians continue to ride roughshod through our villages?"

"You question my commitment?" Castamir said.

"Of course not. If you were not loyal, you would not have come this far. However, i must wonder of your attention to the lady.... Several times it rather seemed to me that you displayed some manner of... _affection?_... for her."

"You are wrong, Calimehtar," Castamir said firmly. "However, i must ask you if she is a wise target. You know that she is not Gondorian herself and that this could end up involving Rohan as well. Are we prepared for that?"

"Are you prepared to die for the freedom of Harad?" Calimehtar challenged. "She is the perfect target. The wife of the Steward... what could possibly make a stronger declaration? Besides, we can not change targets now, you already have her in your confidence. Trust me, this will show Gondor that we will not abide their superior actions."

"She has two children, you know," Castamir said, more softly than he intended.

Calimehtar looked very interested in that. "You do not say?! How old?"

"Several months, that is all." Castamir was beginning to feel uneasy about this situation, realizing that they were no longer here to take on one authority figure but a woman and potentially her babies. It suddenly seemed to him that they were no better than the soldiers of Gondor who had invaded Pelargir.

"This is more perfect than i could have imagined," Calimehtar said mostly to himself. "If she nurses those children tonight...," he started to say gleefully, but then noticed that his companion did not share his mood. "What is the matter with you, Castamir? Perhaps i was not wrong. Perhaps you do have affection for the Steward's wife. If you want out of this, there is only one way," Calimehtar said threateningly.

Castamir rose from where he was seated, anger flashing in his eyes. "I do not want out. I want to see Harad at last free from tyranny, at all costs. I will ready supplies for tonight's journey," he said walking out and steeling his will to go through with his mission.

---

_linda: It would certainly seem that you were right. _


	13. Revelations of the Open Mind

The first morning that Aragorn awoke at the inn in Pelargir, he went quickly to the innkeeper to see about lodging his soldiers for the remainder of their tour. The previous night he had spent in conversation with Belthil after Faramir left, and he learned that currently the soldiers were taking up quarters with the townsfolk wherever there was space to be had. Belthil said that for the past several weeks he had been quartered with two other soldiers in the home of an elderly widow. Aragorn decided to put a stop to that immediately.

Though the innkeeper was greatly hesitant to agree to lodge all of the troops sent from Minas Tirith, the weighty bag of gold put in front of him saw his tune change rapidly. Aragorn preferred to use his title as little as possible. Once taken care of, the soldiers would be able to patrol in better organized shifts and sleep in better accommodations. Though he was still enraged with their actions thus far, Aragorn preferred that his men be properly housed and not a further burden on the city. He hoped that this move would demonstrate his goodwill to both the people of Pelargir and his own men.

All of that day Aragorn spent with his Rangers gathering information on the goings-on in Pelargir in the last months. Faramir spent the day being guided by Belthil and in conversation with him. At times it was so much like having his brother back that he had to catch himself from calling the young man Boromir. He was still wracking his mind to try to remember that name: Imloth. By now he was certain that he had heard the name, but he simply could not be sure if it was in any connection to his brother.

That night father and son took their supper privately in Faramir's room. They had much to discuss and Faramir would be likely to spend the next day closed in with a quill and ink and parchment taking notes to do reports when they got home. This night, though, Faramir was so distracted by a number of things that he did not register his father speaking to him until Aragorn laid a hand on his arm.

"Father, forgive me," Faramir said, dragging a hand over his eyes. "My mind is not where it should be."

Aragorn smiled thinly. "I can see that. I was wondering where your mind is, though?"

Faramir sighed. "At home. I miss my children. I am even beginning to miss Éowyn shouting at me," he said with a grin. "I wonder if she will talk to me when we return or not."

"We will not be too long here. I miss home, too," Aragorn assured his son. "I can tell there is more to your humor than just homesickness, though."

"There is." Faramir took a breath and relaxed, knowing that if he could tell anyone what had been on his mind, he could tell his father. "I have been thinking so much of Boromir lately; even on our journey here while i was still preoccupied with thinking of Éowyn's refusal to see me before we left, i began to think the better match would have been her and my brother. They would have been perfect for each other, and in that i could not help but to feel that i was again second best. I never envied Boromir, though. And now to meet this young Belthil.... Father, i swear i know the name of his mother, but i just can not find it in my memory _how_ i know it. They just look too much alike to be a coincidence. Do you not think i am correct?"

Aragorn nodded. "I think that last night when i sat up talking to him i very nearly called him Boromir a number of times. He is very much like to how your brother was. Might i advise you to stop trying to remember it though? Let your mind rest some, please ion-nín. It will come to you in time if you keep your mind open. You did bring that book from old Bilbo, why not take some rest tonight and read for a while? It will do you good."

"Perhaps i should," Faramir said with a sigh. "I wish i'd had a chance to finish _Narn I Hîn Húrin _before we left, but that was the night Éowyn was angry at me for not inviting her brother along. I just wish we could get along for more than a few minutes at a time. I dearly hope that things will be different when we move to Emyn Arnen."

Aragorn laughed despite Faramir's seriousness. "You say that perhaps Éowyn and Boromir would have been the better match, but i disagree. As it is, at least one of you is willing to compromise. Boromir might well have matched her headstrongness, but think of the disaster that could have ended up."

Faramir too had to laugh at the thought. "I believe you are right, adar. I know i love her greatly, and i have said as much that i would die for her and the children. It's just that i do not think she... understands me," he said, choosing carefully his phrasing.

"That will develop in time as well," Aragorn said comfortingly. "You are two very different people, but nothing happens without a reason. Do not despair, for all people change with time and it is yet possible that change will bring the two of you closer."

"I wish i could be like you, father," said Faramir wearily. "I wish i could always know just what to say or do. I wish Éowyn and i could be like you and Arwen are."

Aragorn shook his head though, his grey eyes filled with sincerity. "I love you for who are you, my son. Don't ever forget that." Aragorn noticed the sleepiness in his son's eyes under the smile of thankfulness Faramir wore. Rising, Aragorn rested a hand Faramir's shoulder in encouragement. "Take some rest, Faramir. We can talk come morning."

Faramir nodded, and for once, accepted rest over work. That night Faramir's sleep was visited by a dream of one certain night spent with his brother in the Merry Widow tavern.

Almost immediately upon being seated women had seemed to come out of the woodwork to fawn over Boromir. The elder brother had his arms full at all times, hardly getting a chance to get near his ale. Faramir was young, only just a man at the beginning of his 18th year. Boromir was 23, and a favorite of the "ladies" who staffed the tavern. It was that night that Boromir saw fit to fix up his little brother with one of his female companions. It was the most humiliating experience of Faramir's life and he made quite sure to tell off his brother about having a little more respect for women.

When Faramir woke the next morning, he groaned at having dreamed of that terrible encounter, but couldn't shake the thought of it. There was something about that dream, something that he remembered from that night. Faramir thought of being shoved into the unoccupied room by his brother and his chosen woman and trying to back out of his situation as tactfully as possible, all the while having to hear the impassioned sounds from the next room.

That was when it hit him. The woman Boromir was with that night... her name was Imloth. And that night was 19 years ago. It all made sense, he was entirely sure now. Belthil was Boromir's son. Faramir had to sit down for a moment as he realized that his brother's son lived and was here in this city. Faramir was quiet for a long while and deep in thought.

---

_AM: The plot quickens, indeed. _

_Seems i had another chapter ready to flow out tonight. So, lucky readers, you get two for the price of one today! I may in fact have another one out tomorrow, the way i am feeling, though the weekend is promising to be a bit busy. _

_Where have all my reviewers disappeared off to of late?_


	14. Permanent Escape

Éowyn sat beside her brother at dinner. On her other side sat Lords Castamir and Calimehtar. Éomer kept taking glances toward Castamir, but he seemed quite reserved, almost ill at ease that Éowyn had asked them to dinner again. The King of Rohan could not help but think that his sister had extended the invitation less out of generosity to the foreigners than out of spite of their argument the night before.

Éomer sighed, wondering if he had been wrong. Perhaps he was just thinking too diplomatically, maybe there was nothing improper with just taking a ride. Castamir did seem like quite a cultivated gentleman, even offering to serve Éowyn when her glass of wine was low.

Deciding to be a little more social than he had been through the meal, Éomer commented on Castamir's ring, saying that he had never seen a stone in that shade of orange before.

He was surprised when Castamir seemed hesitant to speak of it or to show it to him more closely. "Take no offense, Lord Éomer, i beg you. This ring is very special and unfortunately it has been stolen several times. I have guarded it closely, for this stone is very rare and can only be found in a certain region of Harad."

Éomer accepted that answer, understanding what it was to guard closely something precious. At length the two foreigners rose and excused themselves for the evening. Castamir bowed to Éowyn and reached for her hand, again laying a kiss to her fingers.

She was sorry that they were leaving so soon after the meal, especially since Castamir had been so quiet. "I shall see you again soon, Lord Castamir?" Éowyn asked hopefully, drawing a deep frown from her brother.

Castamir remain quiet for a moment, seeming to be in thought. Éowyn wondered why she noticed sadness in his eyes. "Yes, my lady, i believe so. Goodbye, fair Lady Éowyn," he said bowing again, then turned quickly and left.

Almost as quickly Éowyn had turned to her brother. "You could have been more hospitable to them," she said. "It is no wonder they wished to leave to soon."

"Perhaps they simply do not like to impose on people," Éomer said.

Another argument was dangerously near breaking out between the brother and sister, if it hadn't been for Lothíriel interjecting and changing the subject. As it was, Éowyn decided to depart for the night anyway. When she reached her chambers she went directly to the nursery to see her little ones. Berethil was there still and she was nursing Elboron, who seemed to have just fallen asleep when his mother entered. The nurse laid the sleeping boy into Éowyn's arms and took Findiel from her cradle.

"I will nurse her, Berethil," Éowyn said. "You have been here with them all day, please take your rest."

"Are you certain, my lady?" the nurse asked. "You know i do not mind staying with them. They are just as their father was, quiet and dear."

Éowyn had to smile at that. She might have guessed that Faramir wasreserved even as a infant. "I am certain, Berethil. I will let you know if i intend to be away tomorrow, but it grows late and i will be taking my rest soon. I feel rather sleepy this even," Éowyn said, settling herself in a large, soft chair as Findiel nursed.

Berethil nodded her understand and made to leave. "I shall lock the door on my way out," she said. Éowyn never usually locked her chamber doors, but she had through the week while Faramir was away. Berethil had a key in case she should come before Éowyn rose for the day.

As Éowyn laid her sleeping daughter by her sleeping son, she suddenly doubled over with a jolt of pain. It only lasted a moment, but the force of the pain had driven her to her knees without her realizing it. As the wave passed, Éowyn pulled herself up again shakily. Her head swam and nothing seemed to stay still before her eyes as she staggered toward her bed and fell onto it, feeling as though a fever raged through her. Éowyn wept as another wave of pain laid into her.

At the room in the Merry Widow Calimehtar was hurrying to get all their baggage ready. Castamir stood by, doing nothing. Calimehtar was about to tell him to get to the stable and get the horses, but seeing the blank look about the other he exhaled furiously. "I have never met such a fool as you, Castamir! You realize that we must leave at once now? You were so busy fawning over her that you gave her too much of that poison too quickly. Any moment now she was screaming in pain, and we have to be far away from here. Finish getting these things together, i am going to get the horses."

Castamir did not seem to notice and when Calimehtar left he sat down and quickly penned two letters, setting one on the desk, putting the other inside his shirt. Castamir looked at two vials that had not been packed by Calimahtar yet, one was a clear liquid, the one that had been in the hollow of the ring he wore. The other was a black liquid. Castamir downed them both and laid down on the bed.

When Calimehtar returned to their room Castamir was asleep on the bed, causing the other to become furious. He shook and slapped his companion, but to no avail. Calimehtar glanced at the desk and saw the empty vials, he did not even need to read Castamir's letter addressed to him to know the circumstances. His friend was not dead, but would be by morning. Calimehtar grabbed the remaining gear and fled, rather glad to no long have Castamir to worry about; his escape would be much faster and cleaner this way.

---

_Raska: Yes, Eowyn should have been more careful about her reputation, among other things. When it came to her reputation, though, she really didn't care what people thought of her, nor did she see anything wrong with what she was doing._

_I suppose you get the gist about the children now... if not, stay tuned._

_Elenhin: It is very good that something came from that night years ago, Faramir is going to need something good in his life._


	15. Visionary

A knock at his door drew Faramir slowly from his reverie. Aragorn entered, a little concerned that Faramir did not respond and was looking distant. The father remained silent, waiting patiently for his son because he recognized well that distant look as one that his father, and occasionally his wife, wore when being shown something by the Powers.

Faramir turned to his father and smiled brightly. "I know now, i've remembered it," he said simply.

Aragorn smiled. "I knew you would if you just rested your mind. I am curious to know, though," he said, pulling up a chair.

Faramir told his father of that night at the Merry Widow. "It all makes sense to me now. The only thing i do not know is how to go about telling Belthil."

Aragorn leaned back and just looked steadily at his son, his brow raised.

Faramir could not help but laugh, knowing what his father meant immediately. "I guess the direct approach is best," Faramir said. "Have you seen him yet today?"

"No, i have not, but he should be about. He told me that he was not on patrol until this evening," replied Aragorn.

Faramir nodded. "Then i shall seek for him now," he said, pulling on a tunic.

As father and son walked out into the hall it happened that Belthil was also just stepping out. Faramir called to him, asking if they might speak together and inviting him into his room. Aragorn caught Faramir's attention, nodding toward the door as a gesture of asking if he should sit in as well. Faramir indicated agreement by the same gesture.

For a moment Faramir was not sure how to open this conversation, it was not something he had ever planned for. Finally, he decided to ask Belthil what his mother looked like, just as one final confirmation. Belthil, though rather confused, confirmed that his mother had a purely Gondorian look, including the long, dark hair and eyes of grey. Faramir then asked if Belthil knew any more about his father than he had mentioned the night before. Belthil sadly answered that he did not.

Faramir felt incredible pity for the young man and reached out his hand in consolation, and his words in disclosure. "Belthil, when i first noticed you yesterday afternoon with your company, i was almost certain that i was looking upon my brother again. Even now i... it's all i can do to keep myself from calling you Boromir. Everything you told us of has lead me to it, and this morning when i remembered that my brother...," Faramir paused, trying to frame his words correctly, "loved a woman named Imloth 19 years ago... how could you be anyone but my brother's son?"

For several moments Belthil sat silent and still, looking as though he knew not what to make of this situation. Then suddenly he rose and walked out of the room. Faramir sighed and shook his head, he had so hoped that his half-nephew would have taken his news better. Aragorn put an arm around his son's shoulder to console him, when just then Belthil returned with a sealed letter in his hand.

"Your brother was Boromir?" he asked Faramir in a quiet voice. Faramir nodded and Belthil handed him the letter. "Then this was meant for your brother, my father. What happened to him?"

It was Aragorn who answered, the memory of what happened to Boromir still all too fresh in his mind. "Your father was one of the Nine Walkers that my foster-father, Lord Elrond, sent forth. He was one of the bravest companions i have ever had the pleasure of traveling with. At the parting of our ways at Amon Hen Boromir was killed when orcs swept us." He decided not to go into the details because neither he nor Faramir needed them immediately, and nor did Belthil.

Belthil looked pensive for a while then muttered to himself with a chuckle that he certainly never dreamed that the Boromir addressed on the letter was the Steward's son. "Imagine me, baseborn son of the heir to the Stewardship."

"A man's birth does not determine his quality, and you have proven to us your quality," Faramir said sincerely, then glanced to Aragorn in question.

"You already know my answer, ion-nín," was his reply.

Faramir cracked a smile with his affirmation and said to Belthil, "I would entrust you with a secret that must be kept permanently, that is if you wish to know."

"I would honor your confidence with my life," Belthil replied, no longer sure of how to address Faramir, his uncle or his Lord.

"I appreciate that, Belthil, but i do not ask your life, not simply to know that i am not the son of Denethor," Faramir said, repressing a shudder at speaking that name.

Belthil looked both confused and disheartened. "Then... you are not my uncle?" he asked.

"I am," Faramir said, "but by half. Boromir was my half-brother. I am, in fact, the son of Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

Belthil's mouth dropped as he looked between the King and the Steward. Of all the things he might have expected to happen on his morning off, this was surely not one.

Faramir waited a moment before speaking again, bringing up a point that even Aragorn had not thought of. "So you realize, Belthil, that this in fact means that you have a legitimate claim to the Stewardship of Gondor."

Belthil looked up immediately, no more confusion about him. "No, i have not, nor should i wish to. I have given you my word and only by the breaking of that word could i put forth a claim. I am nothing if not a man of my word," he said solemnly. His voice then softened as he said, "In truth, i am more glad than ever before just to know that i have an uncle and that my father was a good man."

Faramir smiled brightly. "He was a great man, Belthil, and i can not tell you the good it does me to know that a part of him still lives in as fine a man as you. He was the best brother a man could hope for, and he would have been extremely proud to know you."

Aragorn nodded in agreement, ever thankful that Boromir had always looked after Faramir when they were boys. Turning to Belthil, Aragorn spoke. "I have been thinking of how i might justly reward your loyalty, Belthil, and i think i might know. I would greatly like to appoint you to Lord Beregond's company. They will be stationed at Faramir's home in Emyn Arnen, whenever that comes into being. I was thinking that in the meanwhile you might do well as a Citadel Guard. I offer this to you, but i do not impose it. It is up to you, Belthil."

Belthil sat motionless, his eyes lit with astonishment. "Citadel Guard?" he whispered.

Aragorn nodded.

"Citadel Guard," the young man repeated. "It has been my highest aspiration since i was a child."

"Then it is yours, Belthil. It would be a honor to have you return to Minas Tirith with us," Aragorn said cheerfully. He was thrilled that things finally seemed to be getting on track for him and Faramir.

That night Faramir went to his sleep with the best sense of peace he had since the War ended. His smiled glowed like the last embers on the hearth across the room as he fell asleep thinking that he still had a connection to his belovéd brother. Faramir was feeling so contented that he never could have thought what his dreams would reveal to him that night.

It started with a sharp scream piercing the night. Faramir woke suddenly back in his chambers in the Citadel. He hurried to help the one in peril only to find it was Éowyn. Erestor was already there as was Arwen, but when he frantically asked them what was wrong neither heard him. He rushed to Éowyn's side to try to calm her somehow, but it was as though he was not there at all. He watched in helpless silence as nothing helped and Éowyn screams went down to sobs, then ragged breaths. He saw Éowyn grip Arwen's hand and ask her to tell him that she loved him, then she was silent and her hand fell away from the Queen's.

Faramir sat up in his bed, shaking and in a cold sweat. He was dressed in a matter of seconds and running through the inn, out to the stable. Suddenly his hand was caught and he turned, ready to fight anyone who would have stopped him until he saw that it was Glorfindel. Faramir stood still, trying to catch his breath as tears welled up.

"Faramir...," Glorfindel began softly.

"Don't stop me this time, please. This is a matter of life and death," Faramir said with the little breath he had regained, choking on his words for the tears.

"I had the same vision, Faramir," Glorfindel said quietly. "I know what you saw. And you know by now how the Valar work through you."

Faramir's tears finally spilled. "I have to go. What if this is different? What if i can help her?"

Glorfindel shook his head, still keeping a solid grip on Faramir's arm. "You know, Faramir. There are not even goodbyes to be said now."

His tears overwhelmed him as he sank to the ground. He tried to form words but could only sob. He did know. When the Valar granted him visions they were not meant to spur him to action (though they usually did), but they were only meant to show him what had already come to pass that he might be better able to accept and react accordingly.

Aragorn stepped out of the inn hoping for a peaceful walk in the night but saw up ahead by the stable his son on the ground weeping and Glorfindel trying to console him. Utterly confused, Aragorn stood silent for a moment before moving toward them. A hand on his shoulder stayed him though.

"We must return to Minas Tirith immediately," Legolas said. "I was just coming to wake you."

Aragorn just gave his friend a worried, questioning look.

Legolas looked toward the Elf and the young Man at hand. "Both Glorfindel and Faramir have had the same vision, Lady Éowyn is dead."

---

_linda: You were right... you did leave me a couple reviews that i never was alerted to. Good thing i checked the reviews on the story itself! _

_grumpy: Yeah, even though they do not get along, he still loves her. Love is a funny thing like that. But, now...._

_Raska: I know, but for the rest of you, that remains to be seen. It will all become clear soon._

_Voldie: School isn't really stupid, just the lack of learning that tends to take place in schools today (say, not too bad for someone who never studied Spanish, eh?) As for Faramir... he's going to need love and a lot of it. I know i could help! Continue i shall._


	16. Help

On separate ends of the King's House there slept peacefully two Noldor Elves. Both woke immediately to the chilling sound of a woman's pain-filled scream. Neither wasted a moment in rushing to find out what was the matter.

Those whose rooms were located nearest to Éowyn's were already standing outside her door in fear, some calling to her and receiving only pained cries in response. Arwen and Erestor arrived at the same time and the small crowd immediately parted for them.

Erestor tried the handle but found it locked. "Mortal doors..." he mumbled disdainfully. He took a step back and squared his shoulders as he threw his weight against the door to no avail. Several of the women in the hallway feared that such a blow had hurt the Elf. To all appearances one so bookish should not have had nearly enough strength to break a door, but his second try was enough to make the lock give way.

By the time they got in to Éowyn's chamber she was no longer screaming in pain, but merely sobbing. She no longer had the voice to cry aloud. Erestor knelt beside her, looking deeply into her eyes, asking what troubled her. She did not respond verbally, but Erestor was able to read in her eyes that she did not know what was happening, only that she was in terrible pain.

Arwen took Éowyn's hand to try to impart comfort to her, but Erestor stopped her. "You no longer have strength for both yourself and others, Arwen," her father's advisor said. "Especially not now that you are with child." She had no choice but to accept Erestor's words, true as they were, but she remained seated nearby.

Several of the ladies asked Erestor if the Lady would recover and urged him to do something to help her. Erestor turned, looking defeated. "There is naught that i can do," he said helplessly. "My skill is not in healing. Please, you must not stay here. I do not know whether or not the Lady will convalesce, but if she is to, she must not have so many about her." Where was Elrond when he was needed, Erestor had to wonder. And if that was not bad enough, but Glorfindel and Aragorn, too? Erestor asked the last concerned lady leaving to call Éomer, though he was not in the least prepared to deal with his reaction.

Turning again to the weeping Éowyn, Erestor had to remove Arwen's hands from her hand and forehead. "Saes, pen-neth... you can not use your strength like that anymore." Erestor sighed at the determined look in her eyes. "For one, we do not know what manner of power it would take to help her, for we have no idea what is causing this. For another, you are already supporting the life of another being. And finally, you just do not have the power you used to have."

Arwen was about to argue with him when she heard one of the children cry out. Findiel lay in her cradle crying louder than she thought one so little could cry. Arwen brought her into Éowyn's bedchamber, hoping that they might benefit one another. Éowyn took her little girl into her arms, holding her close, but neither one's pain was any lessened.

Arwen and Erestor had no choice but to sit by powerlessly, and Erestor now understood fully the fact that the age of Men had come. He could not even ask Éowyn anything, she was in far too much pain to respond coherently.

That was when Éomer rushed in panicked. He stared at his sister and niece as he knelt beside the bed. "What plagues you, Éowyn? What is wrong with Findiel?" he asked in terror. Her only answer was to clutch tightly to her brother's arm. Éomer looked between Erestor and Arwen, hoping and almost expecting that they knew something. Neither did.

Erestor asked Éomer if she had eaten anything strange or different at dinner. Éomer shook his head and said, "We dined together, she and i and Lothíriel along with.... It was them! They did this to her!" Éomer shouted in realization and moved to bolt from the room, had it not been for Erestor's surprisingly strong grip.

The advisor did all he could to keep his voice calm. "I need answers Éomer, maybe there is something i can do if i know. Who did this to her?"

"Those Haradrim!" Éomer hollered.

"You are going to need to give your answers in a calmer fashion, Lord Éomer," Erestor said, beginning to lose his patience with the impulsive mortal.

"What Haradrim do you speak of, Éomer?" Arwen asked gently.

Éomer attempted to lower his voice, but could do nothing about the roughness of his angry tone. "Two of them, they came here not yesterday wishing to see Faramir about a diplomatic matter. I had them lodged at the Merry Widow until his return. I invited them to dinner last night, Éowyn invited them this evening."

Erestor looked ready to explode. "Men from Harad? They came into the city to see Faramir? Why am i just hearing of this now?!"

Éomer looked a little annoyed that Erestor thought he should have been informed when clearly the men did not wish to speak to him. "We offered to have them speak with you or Arwen about their situation, but they did not wish to."

"Of course they did not! We are Elves, we would have known immediately that they were up to no good!" Erestor cried, fed up with mortals and ready to walk away from the whole thing. What was the point of assisting the Steward if no one bothered to tell him anything?

Just then Berethil, Lothíriel, and Éomer's attendant rushed in. The attendant bowed before Éomer before holding out two empty vials. "My Lord, these were found in the room the Southorns kept at the inn... along with one of them, dead."

"What of the other?" Éomer asked quickly, his eyes flashing.

"There was no sign of him, my Lord. Both of their horses were gone from the stable," the other man said.

Éomer handed the vials to Erestor, hoping he could make something of them. The Elda immediately recognized the traces of black water in the one vial. "This did not cause her this pain, this is nothing but Enchanted water from Mirkwood."

Éomer flew into a rage all over again, "What manner of enchantment do you mean? If that Elf had anything to do with this i will kill him with my bare hands!"

It was not the right thing to say with two Elves standing in the room, especially not when one of them was the wife of that Elf's best friend. "_Prince_ Legolas has not been in Mirkwood since before the Council met," she informed Éomer rather bitterly. "And furthermore, he has never been to Harad. If it had not been for Legolas, you would likely not have a kingdom to rule."

Erestor interjected before things became too heated. "This is easy enough to find without going to Mirkwood, and this would cause your sister no harm. Faramir had a good bit of it over the summer, and if you want to know what i think, it did him more good than harm. It is this other vial that worries me. Éomer, you need to give me details about these men."

Éomer did not feel he had many details to tell about them, but he searched his mind for everything that stuck out at him. When he mentioned the odd ring Castamir wore at dinner and that he served wine to Éowyn Erestor's interested fell. "A poison ring," he muttered. "All we can do now is watch and wait, and try to keep her in comfort. Did she nurse her children tonight, Berethil?" Erestor asked, not wanting to hear the answer.

"She nursed Findiel, my Lord," the nurse said sadly. "I told her i would do it for her, but she told me to take my rest for the night." Lothíriel gently took her sleeping nephew from Berethil's arms, hoping against hope that his sister would be all right, the baby girl still crying in her mother's arms, even as Éowyn's body was still wracked with pain.

---

"It can not be..." Faramir sobbed into his hands, hoping that for once he had seen something that could be prevented or changed. Glorfindel had no words of comfort to offer the young man, knowing full well that this time was not different.

Aragorn knelt beside his son, fighting back his own emotions. If what Legolas had said was true, he understood how hard this would be for Faramir. "Ion-nín... come," Aragorn said gently, offering to help Faramir up. "Every moment we are here is a moment lost. We shall leave immediately. We can get to Minas Tirith in three days if we go via the river."

Faramir rose slowly with his father's aid. Together they went back into the inn the gather the few supplies they had. Aragorn went to wake Belthil, telling him that if he was still interest he could join them, but that he would have to come immediately. Belthil, being a soldier who had been quartered in strangers home for the last few months, was ready at an instant and only minutes later they were heading down to the docks. Aragorn was rather sure that this once he would have to use his title in order to get a suitable vessel in the middle of the night with no notice. Glorfindel and Legolas agreed to follow by land with their horses, though Legolas was fairly sure that Gimli would not be happy about traveling by horse again so soon.

Once their transport was secured by a very unhappy dock keeper, whose expression changed tenfold when he heard the name of Elessar, the three set off at once. Faramir, in anxiety, paced the deck of the small ship all night. Aragorn was glad that he had hired an expert mariner to steer them, for though he was capable of the task himself, he wanted to be able to calm Faramir as much as he could.

Belthil understood nothing of what was going on, why they had to leave Pelargir so suddenly in the middle of the night nor what was troubling his uncle so. When sleep finally had the mercy to find Faramir, Aragorn told the young man of the situation, explaining Faramir's visionary gift as much as he could. Aragorn was very glad that the wind was strong and in their favor. He guessed that if conditions persisted the journey might only take two days instead of three. He feared that three days on a ship with pent up worry would be too hurtful for Faramir, but it was the fastest way to get back to the city.

It was in fact at the dawning of the second morning that the White City was seen washed in gold so red in the sunrise. The ship had barely docked at the still-abandoned port of Osgiliath before Faramir was already halfway across the Pelennor.

---

_liz: My apologies for not responding to your earlier review. For some reason i did not receive all of my alerts for a while there. Anyway... Eowyn is supposed to be 24, or there abouts, and she should really know better. But then, i have known people older than that who did not know better. In this story, these Haradrim aren't really evil. They never fought for Sauron in the War, they only thing they have fought against is the oppression of Harad. But they don't really represent the whole country either. They are just ordinary people who are capable of being led astray or going a little round the bend -naturally Gondor isn't trying to take over Harad, but these guys are just paranoid, sort of. It was Faramir who inspired me to write them thusly. That scene in The Two Towers inIthilienwhen he sees the man he killed and has pity for him.... Very Fara'._

_As for your latest review - I think this chapter explains a little more about the vials. Calimehtar had a vial of Enchanted water (because of herbalists in Middle-earth arbitrarily carry some around - like Glorfindel, so says me), but he also mixed an entire vial of the clear stuff, even though they only needed enough to put into the poison ring. I liked Faramir's vision too, but i don't think he liked it much. It made him cry._

_grumpy: Hopefully Erestor explained well enough about the different vials. I can't say yet who will live or die. You will have to wait until next chapter._

_Crimson: Maybe i did have it in for her all along... but i can assure you that no Mary Sues will be falling out of the firmament into Fara's needy arms. He couldn't get that lucky._

_linda: The site has definitely been hay-wire lately. What else is new? Oh well, it's still fun anyway. And yes, Faramir's nephew is going to be a great source of comfort for him in the future. _

_Voldie (aka Hud): That was a wild review, to say the least! I am still pondering some of it. Men can breast feed, actually, but it takes enough estrogen and progestren. All men have some of both and all women have some testosterone. I know this because my testosterone level rises every Sunday afternoon for three to four hours during football season, and yet my dad, being the only guy in my family, really hates football. Go figure._

_I will gladly write more... it's all i can do. However, i don't believe i own green shoes. I'm not sure what it is with foreign languages and green shoes, but i recall someone back in my schooling days thinking that the German(?) phrase "ista poda hoduts?" (where are your green shoes?) was hilarious - and yes i know i mangled that German, but i speak every language but Greek and German isall Greek to me._

_I wish i could promise all my dear readers to have the next chapter i keep referring to in the above reviews up tomorrow... only i will be rather busy with the Chamber of Commerce mixer (shudder). Hopefully i will get some writing done when i get home though, and maybe have the next chapter up Thursday or Friday night._


	17. Helpless

Faramir raced through Osgiliath where several groups of Dwarves had already begun work on the fort. There was a small group of soldiers coming to give what help they could. They stopped when they saw the Steward, but Faramir scarcely slowed down.

"Your horse," Faramir shouted, running up to them, and one soldier quickly dismounted just in time for Faramir to jump on and gallop across the Pelennor. The rest of the soldiers just exchanged glances and shrugged. When they saw the King and another younger man racing toward them they all dismounted immediately. Their bows to Aragorn were wasted, though, as he wasted no less time than Faramir in mounting and taking off at once.

Faramir reached the city and galloped heedlessly through the streets. He ran through the courtyard and into the Citadel where several guards tried to get his attention to no avail. The first thing he noticed was the broken lock on Éowyn's door. All of his energy left him at once and he pushed the door open weakly.

For two nights Erestor and Arwen had not left Éowyn's chambers and neither had slept, despite Erestor's urgings that Arwen needed her sleep. Both were incredibly relieved when it was Faramir who entered the bedchamber and not another one sent from the Houses of Healing to try something new and, as was always the case, useless.

Faramir said nothing, he hardly even noticed the two Elves, but knelt beside Éowyn's bed. Her eyes were closed but opened slowly when Faramir lovingly brushed a few stray strands from her forehead. "Valar! You're alive," he breathed. "I thought i had lost you."

Éomer had been in the nursery and when he heard Faramir's words silent tears poured from his eyes. He had not the heart to tell Faramir what he had already lost the night before. Nor had Lothíriel, who wept equal to her husband.

"Faramir... i am so sorry...i love you," Éowyn said, her voice a shaking whisper. She slowly reached up to take Faramir's hand when suddenly pain consumed her, stealing even her ability to scream out. Faramir was frozen at the sight of her in such agony and knew not what to do but to hold her, wishing the pain would flow out of her and into him instead.

Only a few moments later Aragorn came in with Belthil close behind. Aragorn took one look at Éowyn and called for steaming water immediately. He took a leaf from his belt pouch, wishing it were a little fresher but making do with what he had. He gently took Éowyn's hand from Faramir and rested his other hand on her forehead. He was putting forth a great deal with strength and seeming to get nowhere at all. He could not even sense what was wrong within her. This was always so much easier when his patients were not awake. After about ten minutes of struggling to do something, anything to help, Aragorn began to stand up feeling defeated. He swayed slightly from fatigue and Erestor instantly had him sit down for a while.

"I do not understand. I didn't even encounter anything within her," he said, almost to himself.

"You gave me no time to explain, Estel," Erestor said, handing him the two vials. "I do not think she was given the Enchanted water, but the clear liquid. I do not know what it is, but nothing has helped."

Aragorn examined the tiny bottle carefully. "Poison... no wonder i could not sense anything. It seems to be derived from nightshade, possibly baneberry, and it might have been mixed with some manner of snake's poison. I know of nothing for this," he muttered.

Faramir turned suddenly, as if just noticed Aragorn's presence. "Father... what do you mean? Surely you can help her as you did before?" Éowyn's trembling hand at his face drew Faramir's attention back immediately before the King could answer.

With Faramir's attention turned, Erestor rose. "Estel...," he said, walking to the door in implication that the King should follow him. Once in the hallway Erestor turned to face Aragorn but said nothing for a while. Aragorn could read plainly enough in the Elf's eyes that what he needed to tell him was going to be bad.

Erestor started slowly. "She was poisoned two nights ago. Somehow two men from Harad gained access to the Citadel twice to dine with Éomer and Éowyn. The second night they slipped whatever manner of poison that is into her drink. Estel... she nursed Findiel that night, and...." Erestor trailed off, knowing what his words would do to Aragorn.

For a moment Aragorn stood unresponsive as though he had not even heard Erestor's words before he looked up at the Elf, his grey eyes glistening. "My granddaughter...?" he choked.

Erestor just shut his eyes and nodded. There was little time for the reality to set into Aragorn when Faramir shouted for his father. Aragorn hurried in, trying greatly to think like a healer instead of a father.

"She's not breathing! Please, help her!" Faramir cried desperately, clutching his wife's hand.

Aragorn could not pry his son's hand from Éowyn's so he reached for her other wrist, pressing his fingers there and at her neck, his ear pressed against her chest. There was no movement, no sound, no anything.

Éomer too had rushed in at Faramir's distressed cry. He watched as Aragorn sat up slowly, blinded by his own tears. Aragorn caught Faramir as his son fell into his father's arms, flooded by tears. Éomer turned away, staring out the window before a yell from deep within him broke the morning. If it had not been for Lothíriel holding him, Éomer's pain might have turned to rage and caused a great deal more damage.

Aragorn knew it would not be best to wait to tell Faramir what Erestor had told him. As his son wept bitter tears against his father's shoulder, Aragorn said through his own tears, "Éowyn nursed that night, Faramir...."

Faramir's tears all at once stopped and he sat up, clutching Aragorn's tunic and shaking his head wordlessly, begging Aragorn not to bring him that news. Aragorn could not react quickly enough to keep his son from rushing into the nursery. Aragorn followed him, leaving Éomer to his own reactions.

Faramir felt like he had been robbed of any strength he had ever had in all of his life. He no longer even had tears to shed, he had gone numb. Faramir did not respond for a long time with Aragorn's hand on his shoulder. After a long while he looked at his father and whispered hoarsely, "Tell me that Elboron is alright... or tell me nothing at all."

Tentatively Aragorn lifted his sleeping grandson into his arms. "Erestor said nothing of her nursing him and he seems fine." The King's voice was scarcely even a whisper.

Faramir sat down heavily in the nearest chair, grateful for one small relief. His numbness had little abated though. "Help me, father," he begged miserably, tears rushing up all over again.

---

_Crimson: Without turning this into a political arena - you don't want to awaken the Balrog of politics in me - understand that by saying that the two Haradrim were not really evil, i mean that they were just people. I don't really believe that people can be purely evil. In the context of this story... how quickly we forget, but what those two did was no more evil than what the soliders in Pelargir had been doing. In the context of today's world, Iraqi insurgents are no more evil than those who order American soldiers to blow up entire city's because they had a tip that one person might be there. Neither side is right in these things. But the reason there is so much war is that everyone thinks that they are the right ones and that the other ones are evil. Those who are fighting against America think we are a pretty evil bunch, just as a lot of people in this country think they are. Have you ever been to Northern Ireland? For years they have been locked in a dispute about disarmament. One group refuses to disarm before the other one does, and it is no wonder why. Everyone thinks they are the ones who are right. It's a pretty sick joke when you think about it. I would ask you not to cast stones without first taking a look at who is doing the casting._

_linda: Well... the grains of hope are scattered now, but we shall see what happens next._

_Raska: There was never much hope. You can see the above rant about wrong versus evil. I just think to say that a person is evil is too much. That gives evil far too low a standard and gives the entire world no hope whatsoever._

_Voldie: Only a vision? Have Fara's visions ever been wrong before?_

_I don't play any sports actually. I'm not a very physical person in that regard, even though i walk to work every day and eat right, etc, so it's not like i'm a slob or something. I really love to watch football though, American football. I was raised on it thanks to my grandpa. As for me... i've never kicked anyone's anything. _

_Lady Eoyalf, is it? And no, i won't be asking. Not at all._


	18. Aftershock

It was hours before anyone said or did anything. Faramir began to nod, all his strength spent, and Erestor noticed. The Elf nudged Aragorn who then noticed too. He went to his son.

"Faramir," he said, resting a hand on his shoulder, "Come, you need to take some rest." Aragorn was prepared for a fight, but Faramir rose in numb obedience, though the action of standing shook loose more tears from his very heart. He was not even aware that he was crying as his father walked with him back to the Steward's chambers.

Faramir sat down on his bed and stayed still as though he did not even know to lay down. Aragorn sat beside him, silent for a few moments before he spoke. "We will get through this together, Faramir, all of us."

"What am i going to do, father?" he asked, hoping that there would be a good answer to his question.

Aragorn looked up into Faramir's eyes. "You're going to live, my son. Believe me, i know it seems impossible now and it may seem so for a long time. But i am always here for you. Never hesitate to come to me, all right?"

Faramir nodded almost automatically.

"Come, Faramir, let yourself rest," Aragorn said gently. Faramir pulled off the travel gear that he had been in since the night before and laid down. Aragorn nodded and started to leave saying, "I will be back later with something for you to eat," but Faramir caught his hand and looked pleadingly.

"Will you bring Elboron in? I want to have my son near me," Faramir said, tears threatening yet again.

Aragorn agreed, promising to be back quickly. Aragorn went back to the nursery to find Berethil nursing the boy. "I will take him to Faramir when he is done, Berethil," he said, the woman nodding in deference to her king. He then went to the bedchamber where Arwen, Erestor, Éomer, Lothíriel, and Belthil still were.

Aragorn took his wife into his arms and held her, stroking softly her hair as she wept. "I nearly regret my decision to have you come with us immediately Belthil," Aragorn said, still holding Arwen close against him. "It would have been wiser of me to have you come along with Legolas, Gimli, and Glorfindel. This most certainly is not fair to you."

The young man shook his head. "Please do not be concerned for me, my Lord. I have already buried my mother and i am no stranger to grief."

Arwen turned, drying her eyes, noticing Belthil for the first time. He bowed deeply to her.

Suddenly Aragorn remembered that he had not made any introductions and was glad for the distraction, as was everyone else. "Belthil, Lothíriel, wife of Éomer, was Boromir's cousin."

Lothíriel lifted her head from her husband's chest at the mention of her dead kinsman who she so rarely ever saw. She looked at the young man, realizing how strongly he resembled Boromir, as did Arwen and Erestor who had only known him while he was in Rivendell. Éomer had never met Boromir and did not realize why they all looked amazed.

"According to Lord Faramir, who remembers my mother, i am the son of Boromir," said Belthil, not out of boastfulness but as an explanation.

As greetings were offered to the young man, Berethil brought Elboron in, tentatively letting Aragorn take the baby boy. Though she was reassured by the King's love for the child, she too was shaken deeply by the sudden losses.

It seemed that Aragorn shared the woman's thoughts about the suddenness of their losses. He turned to Erestor, looking resigned, and said, "I truly hate to ask it of you, mellon-nín, but someone will have to do something about arrangements...." Aragorn trailed off, not wanting to talk about it anymore.

Erestor sighed. "Estel, i hate to tell you, but i do not know anything about funerals. I have never had to make any sort of arrangements. Though Rivendell was home to many mortals over the years, Elrond always handled those matters himself."

Aragorn was about to say something else, when Éomer interjected. "You have no need, Lord Erestor. I will send for my men and she will be borne home the day after tomorrow." His voice sounded as though he had spoken no words in the last week.

Aragorn closed his eyes, knowing where this was going to end up, and thinking that he would not be able to handle the situation at that time. Elboron, apparently, was feeling quite left out and made his displeasure with everything known to the King with a forceful tug on his hair. Aragorn kissed his grandson's forehead as tiny fingers tried to grasp at his beard. The man smiled sadly, looking at Arwen. "Elboron would love Gandalf," he said, laughter wrestling with a fresh batch of tears. Aragorn then turned to Éomer before leaving and said hastily, "I can not give my approval of that, for you and Faramir shall have to discuss the matter... later."

By the time Aragorn finally got to Faramir's chambers again both his son and grandson were asleep. He laid the little one down securely beside his father and decided to stay in the next room. He needed time to himself as it was as he internally fought with the fact that his son's wife was dead and so was his granddaughter. He would have taken walking into Barad-dûr unarmed two years ago over this.

Within Éowyn's chambers, Erestor was the first one whose head cleared enough to usher everyone out and elsewhere. He showed Belthil to a free apartment in the King's house for which the young man was grateful, also wishing for some time alone to think of the realities that had come at him all at once in the last several days.

Éomer and Lothíriel went to their chambers (which had separate bedrooms). The King of Rohan had thought several times to get up and go seek his squire about preparing a march for his sister's funeral, but every time the thought entered his mind it brought more tears with it. It was only Lothíriel's presence that kept Éomer from reacting to his grief as he had for so many years - rashly and without reflection.

Erestor, now alone, found himself in Faramir's office, rather sure that we would be spending a lot of time there in the coming days, weeks, perhaps even months. Suddenly, more than anything, he just wanted Glorfindel to be with him. The advisor hated feeling helpless or as though he had failed someone. This day he was feeling both strongly, as were so many others in the Citadel.

Evening was swiftly approaching, time for supper to be served soon, but the only people who noticed it were those who were not aware of what had happened.

---

_linda: Yes, Faramir did get to say goodbye, and she to him. Unfortunately for him, each goodbye he has had to say only gets harder for him. As far as the wisdom of my statement goes, it is often a curse to be able to see things from both sides so clearly._

_Elenhin: Indeed, you shall just have to wait and see. And yes, the line to comfort Faramir is miles long. Though just now, he does not want any comfort. It's easier for him to just hurt now. _

_Voldie: Yes, both mother and daughter have gone on to their eternal rest. I do work, and in fact, it is probably my job that made it so easy for me to write this death. I am the secretary for my parish, an aging parish, which means i make a lot of calls to various ministers to let them know about funerals. The music director/organist gave me my most favorite title: The Cheery Voice of Death. As for my age... how many answers to that there are: legal, old enough to know better, too young to collect social security....Perhaps i shall give clues to my age, or perhaps i won't. I am older than my birth, though. I always have been._


	19. Needs to be Met

The sun was sinking into the West when Faramir woke to his son's cries beside him. He was glad that his sleep had been restful, but now he feared for Elboron. He called out to Aragorn but he had gone back to his own chambers with Arwen. He rose and took the little one in his arms, holding him protectively and nearly running to his father's end of the house. If the door had not been locked he would not have even knocked.

"Please tell me he is alright," Faramir said, his voice weak. The younger man had begun to feel unwell and was glad to just sit down with his father again. Arwen came and sat at his other side and took his hand. Immediately Faramir began to feel better and smiled at Arwen.

She returned the smile and whispered, "just do not tell Erestor."

After a moment of checking Elboron over Aragorn turned to Faramir. "Your son is healthy as ever, Faramir. But he gets his appetite from his namesake. You should find Berethil, he is hungry."

Faramir laughed at himself for being so foolish, but suddenly his laughter turned to tears. Arwen offered to take the baby to the nurse as Aragorn put his arms around his son.

"I can't do this, father," Faramir sobbed into Aragorn's shoulder. "How can i possibly be a good father to him when i can not even recognize he simplest needs?"

"You will do fine, Faramir," Aragorn said firmly but comfortingly. "You love him with your whole being, that is what matters most. And who ever told you that you are in this alone?"

"I just feel so lost already. I feel like i should leave him here with you and go far away before something happens to one of you, too. I feel like i am a curse to everyone i love," Faramir confessed tearfully.

"Faramir," said another voice over at the door. "I used to think that myself," Erestor said. "But i have come to realize that we all have losses. You know, your brother-in-law may be feeling the same thing, perhaps your cousin. Perhaps even your young nephew."

"Is Belthil alright?" Faramir asked, glad to change the subject for the time being. "I feel terrible for him having to come here to this."

"He understands," Aragorn said simply, knowing what a person's understanding could mean to a grieving one.

"I am just so weary of death," said Faramir.

Erestor smiled, putting his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I will see if Glorfindel can get you an invitation to Valinor. Perhaps the Valar would not mind making an exception for you, since they have already spoken to you."

"Erestor," Aragorn said, thinking of something, "you still plan to return to Imladris?"

Erestor nodded. "Aye, in time," he said, glancing toward Faramir in meaning that he would stay as long as Faramir needed him to.

"It may not be Valinor, but i think you and i should still plan to accompanying Ere' and Glor' back home," the King said to his son. "What say you, Faramir? I know myself, if your hurts can be healed in any lands that i have walked, Rivendell will help you."

"Maybe that is a good idea. I... i need some time...." Faramir trailed off, feeling no desire to talk very much. A thought came to him, though, which he knew needed to be voiced. "How... what... what is going to be done about... about the... funeral."

Aragorn could tell Faramir wanted to get that taken care of as soon as possible. It would be a great test for him and his son already wanted to just get past the alternating currents of pain and numbness. The numbness was, by far, worse than the pain for Faramir. "I believe you and Éomer shall have to discuss that matter, ion-nín. He has already expressed his wife that Éowyn be borne back to Edoras the day after next."

If Aragorn expected Faramir to get territorial about the funeral he was disappointed. Faramir just nodded and said, "what about my little girl?" He shuddered again in a sob at the mention of his precious Findiel.

"You must make that decision," Aragorn said softly.

"I will not have her rest anywhere but with her mother," Faramir said with finality. "But i do not want to go anywhere before Legolas, Gimli, and Glorfindel return here with our Rangers."

Aragorn nodded in understanding. "Do you wish to discuss this with Éomer?" he asked almost hesitantly.

Faramir looked away. "Not really. Just tell me when we shall set out and i will come. All i really want to know is why this happened. Why are my wife and baby girl dead? I heard you say something about a poison, but who...." Faramir could not continue, but Aragorn was impressed that he had managed to say that much.

Erestor exhaled, knowing the task was falling to him. "Éomer perhaps can give a better account than i. I did not even know of the happenings in this city until after the fact."

Erestor was about to go ahead and tell Faramir and Aragorn what he did know, but Aragorn cut him off in concern. "Why did you not know of anything? What happenings do you speak of and how long had they been happening before you knew?"

"Sidh, saes, Estel," Erestor said, not really doing much to calm the mortal King. Yet, Aragorn figured, there was little more that he could possibly have to panic over.

"What i have gathered from Éomer is that several days ago he was riding with Éowyn, when two Men from the land of Harad approached the city."

Again Aragorn interrupted him. "Harad?!" he cried. "But we made peace with them months ago!"

Erestor hated to be interrupted almost as much as he hated being kept in the dark and was getting fed up. He was already strained from the helpless feeling of having failed so many by not having the skill of healing. "Estel, i do not know all of the circumstances. It is as i have said, i knew nothing at all of this until Éowyn took ill. Do you want me to continue or not?" the dark-haired Elf practically snapped at the King.

"Lord Erestor, a bit of your own peace if you do not mind," Faramir said wearily. "This has us all in terrible states, but please, i can not deal with an argument right now."

"You have my apology, Faramir," Erestor said, sincerely sorry that he had not thought of Faramir's presence first.

"And you have mine, ion-nín," Aragorn said rather guiltily.

"I do not need apologies. Please, Erestor, just tell us what happened," Faramir said, leaning against his father.

"Are you sure you want to hear this at this time, Faramir?" Erestor said, rather wishing that he didn't have to speak of it.

"I am sure. I can not bear to have so many questions unanswered," said Faramir. It had been terrible for him before anyone had told him what happened to Boromir. All he knew was that his big brother was laying dead in a boat of Elven craft, shot full of holes, and with a cloven horn. He could easily guess how he had ended up shot, but in an Elven boat? And who had put him there? Faramir's first thought was that he had accidentally wandered into the land of Lothlorien, offended the Mistress of Magic with his relatively boorish ways, and thus... was floating out to sea. Faramir chased away that memory, then turned to Erestor. "Tell me, spare me nothing."

---

_linda: I'm glad you like the fact that my stories are different - and i am really glad that my stories are indeed different. That's what i have always gone for, not to write the same thing that everyone has written. The arguments about the funeral, by the way, are about to get a lot more real._

_Elenhin: It is always easier to hurt, you are right. But when has Faramir ever just allowed himself to hurt? It is a little uncharacterist if you think about it.... I find pyschology very interesting and i do employ a little of it in my stories, in that my plots, etc are often supported by not what happens so much as how what happens in reacted to. And i know an awful lot of people who think things halfway through and then act... too many. I think it is a major problem in the world today - people just plain do not think anymore._

_Elenhin's Comforting Line #345,678. I should note that i "accidentally" began handing out the tickets in reverse order, with number 500,000 first. Then i noticed that only 200,000 had gone, and decided to buy up the rest myself... so i am numbers 1-300,000. :-D_


	20. Shall Councils be Taken

Faramir listened silently to all that Erestor knew of the situation. From Éomer offering lodging to the Haradrim in the Merry to Éowyn riding out twice with Castamir to Castamir refusing to show his ring to the King of Rohan, Erestor left out no detail that Éomer had described to him.

When Erestor finished his description of those two fateful days there was silence for a while before Aragorn felt his sadness ebbing away. He had to fight hard to keep it from being replaced with anger. "Let me make certain that i understand this," Aragorn said measuring his tone as best he could. "Éomer invited these men into my city without knowing aught of their purpose other than the fact that they wanted to talk to my son. And no one at any point alerted you, Erestor, acting in Faramir's stead, nor was my wife, the Queen, alerted that two men from Harad were in the city until my son's wife became ill."

"As i know them," Erestor confirmed, "those are the facts of this situation."

Aragorn stared straight forward wondering if it was within his right to have a King from a neighboring land banished from Minas Tirith for all time. But when he saw that Faramir's expression had not changed at Erestor's words, he decided to simply let go of his anger. His son needed his comfort now more than he needed him to confront Éomer about acting severely out of bounds. Aragorn hated to see Faramir looking so abandoned and hopeless.

Erestor glanced out the window and noted the time of day. Sighing, he looked back to Aragorn. "Do you still want to go through with that Council meeting, Estel?" the Elf asked gently.

Aragorn nodded vaguely. "As much as i hate to do it, i must be the one who informs them of this. Besides, you have already called them and they will be highly displeased to have this changed at this late hour." Aragorn rose and laid a hand on his son's shoulder. "I will make this quick. Is there anything you want to me tell them?"

Faramir shook his head, rising numbly. "No, father, there is no need. I am coming."

Aragorn looked concerned. "Ion-nín, it is not necessary for you to come to this Council; not now."

"Father," Faramir protested mildly, "if i do not come it will only prove my weakness. Those men like me little as it is."

As much as Aragorn hated to hear Faramir say self-deprecating things like that, he was at least a little relieved to hear some tone of determination from him. The King wondered, though, if that determination wasn't just a way around the pain for Faramir.

Many of the King's Council, which had included not one single man appointed by Aragorn (something he was planning on remedying in the not-so-distant future), were not at all happy about the late time of the meeting. Some of them had heard vague rumors as to why the King and Steward returned so suddenly, some had even heard whisperings about the Steward's wife, but none knew anything certain.

Aragorn entered the meeting chamber, Faramir following him, both looking weary. Erestor, too, had come along, much to the displeasure of Aragorn's officials. "Gentlemen," the King said, sounding much as he looked, "I ask your pardon for calling you at this hour, but i bring pressing and saddening word."

One of his officers leaned slightly toward another and whispered, "I suppose he learned that he was wrong to go all the way to Pelargir only to find his soldiers doing their rightful mission."

The remark was not heard by anyone else in the room, with the exception of Erestor, who was still standing beside Aragorn, even after Faramir was seated and no longer looking determined about anything. Erestor whispered to the King what had just been say and by whom. Aragorn nodded once and marked down the name of the guilty party on a sheet of parchment Erestor had brought along.

"What i bring is word of my s-Steward's wife's sudden passing," Aragorn said, saying the only thing he could. The Council room fell silent and most eyes went directly to Faramir who was keeping his eyes trained on the table, forcing himself to deny himself the healing quality of the tears that threatened. He had never cried in front of these men before, he refused to start now. Some men were starting to wonder about the way Aragorn so frequently stuttered slightly over the word Steward.

Finally one spoke up with the question everyone had on their minds: "What caused her death?"

"Master Erestor can explain more of that than i can at this time," Aragorn said, taking his seat.

Erestor fought the temptation to roll his eyes at Aragorn's evasion. He also thought that Éowyn's passing was anything but sudden, she had been in pain for hours and Erestor thought to himself that she had not been doing all that well as it was. The Elf tended to think that she had been feeling weaker as it was before poison was administered and was simply unable to fight back as hard as usual. She had, after all, been a survivor of the Black Breath, so he had heard. Erestor had a feeling that life in Minas Tirith might have taken her life early, even if it had not been for the two foreigners who invaded the city. The Elf Lord said none of that, however, to the council, keeping only to reciting again exactly what Éomer had told him and what he had told to Aragorn and Faramir.

The council, hearing all of Erestor's tale up to Éomer's attendant rushing in with the two empty vials and news that one of the Haradrim was found dead in the inn, sat in stunned silence. At length one of the youngest of the council, the one whose remark Erestor had heard, rose and said, "your Majesty, this means war."

No one in the room expected the next reaction. Faramir slammed his fist to the table and stood to meet the councilor eye to eye. "You have never even been to war!" he shouted.

The other young man looking shocked and indignant. "I served in Gondor's army under your elder brother's predecessor for years!"

"I said," Faramir said dangerously, "that you have never been to war. When in all the time that Denethor was Steward of this kingdom did he ever send you to war? When was your life ever at stake? Do not presume to tell me that just because you were in a company you think that you have enough experience to order who lives and dies."

The other man looked utterly taken aback, but he was shrewd and decided to drop his argument with Faramir, going over his head. "My liege, your pardon, but your Steward speaks out of line. Harad clearly broke our peace agreement. We must go to war!"

Aragorn remained seated. He had feared that something like this would happen. Faramir was simply not stable enough for dealing with these councilors and he deeply regretted allowing his son to insist that he come along. The King kept his voice level down, hoping that the others would follow suit. "My Steward did not speak out of line, Gwaithir. I would ask that you both be seated, please. Now about the matter of breaking peace, that is not clear to me as yet."

"Not clear?!" Gwaithir cried. "They came to Minas Tirith and poisoned the Steward's lady."

"And daughter," Faramir said lowly.

At that another older councilor, Belegorn, spoke up. "Gwaithir is right, my liege. Peace has been breached and we must stand against it! Steward Faramir, how can you stand against this course of action?"

"Because i have lived through _the _War," Faramir said, not raising his tone.

"Clearly so too have we, Steward," Belegorn said sardonically.

"No, you did not," Faramir said, beginning to raise his voice again. "You cowered in this city like frightened dogs, doing nothing, as i and men like me fought for what our lives and the lives of others were worth. I ask you, does more killing make anything right?"

"Gentlemen!" Aragorn said clearly as a warning. "We do not know that these Men breached our accord with Harad. I must first communicate with their leader. I will not go recklessly to war. Have we not had enough?"

"But that Elf just said that the intruders were from Harad!" protested Gwaithir.

"My name is Erestor and i would thank you to remember it like a civil person, at least whilst we are in council," Erestor said. He happened to dislike that particular young man as it was.

"Ha!" Gwaithir laughed sardonically. "Have i not heard rumors that when council was taken in Imladris regarding the Ring that you were in favor of hiding it for all time?"

"I was, at the time, in favor of turning it over to the keeping of Iarwain Ben-adar," Erestor retorted. Aragorn was tempted to break up this side argument, but decided to let them shout it out if they so wished. At least it took the focus off Faramir for a while.

Gwaithir laughed again. "Is that not the name the Elves have given to that insane little man who lives in the northern woods?"

"Insane little...," Erestor fumed. "That insane little man...," Erestor was having some difficulty completing an entire thought he was so furious. "Respect for your elders!" the Elf roared in such a manner that no one present, with the exception of Aragorn, knew Elves were able to.

Even Aragorn felt rather unnerved to hear such rage coming from Erestor. Had it been Elrond he might have easily shrugged it off. Aragorn noticed out of the corner of his eye a young man standing in the doorway, looking scared to death. He motioned the lad over, the boy laid a letter in front of him, squeaked out that he was asked to deliver it to Lord Faramir, then ran out of the room for his life. Aragorn passed the sealed letter to his son, noticing that it was in fact addressed to Éowyn. Faramir did not open it but just sat by listening to the arguments rage on. He noticed that his father now had several names written down.

After a long while there was a moment's break in the shouting. Aragorn rose, picked up the sheet he had been keeping, walked away from the table to toward the door. All of his councilors turned to him, wondering what he was playing at.

"Gondor is not going to war until i have more information," the King said with finality. "If you gentlemen wish to stay here and shout at one another until the break of day i care not, but i have made my decision. Good night." Aragorn walked away, Faramir and Erestor taking his lead. The King knew that if he was not in the soothing arms of his wife in less than ten minutes, someone was going to regret it.

---

_Ah, Aragorn... how tactful can one man be?_

_Elenhin: I think we are beginning to see some of Faramir's reactions now. I wonder if this sort of thing is going to continue to escalate? It seems to make him all the more dead-set against war and such things, but it is also making him act before thinking. Faramir is saying exactly what is on his mind now, not like he was before, very careful of everything he said and did, something that caused conflict between him and Eowyn._


	21. Another Day

Faramir went back to his chambers after leaving the council with his father. He fell into bed with a splitting headache and wished only to fall asleep immediately and wake to find that this whole thing was just a nightmare. Suddenly he sat up straight. Where was his son? His heart rate jumped as he ran out into the hallway trying to remember what had gone on.

Arwen was going to take him Berethil... perhaps his son was safe in the nursery. Faramir hurried there, only to find those rooms empty. Feeling a jolt of panic, Faramir rushed to find his father. Again, the King's private quarters were locked, else Faramir would not have knocked. On the other side Aragorn was very tempted to ignore the knock. Arwen was serenely holding Elboron, and it was she that suggested that it might be Faramir looking for his child. Aragorn wanted to be interrupted for absolutely nothing less than his son, though, so asked who sought him before opening up. He was as thankful that it was Faramir and not one of his irate councilors as Faramir was thankful that his son was safe.

Aragorn and Faramir sat and talked for a while, deciding it was a good idea to have Elboron's cradle moved to Faramir's chambers. Aragorn called for one of the guards to have that done immediately so that both his son and grandson could get some rest all the sooner.

Faramir thanked his father for siding with him about declaring war so rashly. Aragorn shook his head, saying, "I do not know what they think it would accomplish. The last thing we need now is more war. I am not certain what tells me, but i have a feeling that those men were not representative of their people. I am sure that there is a faction who they do represent, but i will not make war on all of their people on account of that. If this is a personal matter, i would have it dealt with personally."

That caused Faramir to remember the letter the terrified young man had delivered during the meeting. He withdrew it from a concealed pocket inside his tunic. "What am i to make of this?" he said dully.

"There is only one way to find out, my son. I will read it first, if you prefer," Aragorn said, a little concerned what might be written in that letter.

Faramir shook his head, breaking the seal. As he read what was written there for the third time, trying to comprehend it, he felt the numbness returning before letting the parchment fall into Aragorn's lap.

To the dearest Lady Éowyn, of whom i could never be worthy:

My Lady fair, though i am almost certain that you shall never get to read my words, and possibly more for the benefit of those who survive you and are unfortunate enough to have to face life without you, i offer my apologies for what i have done, for what they are worth.

My compatriot, Calimehtar, and i did not come to Minas Tirith with the intent of robbing her people of such a jewel. Our business was with the Steward Faramir who signed the sanction that sent one of Gondor's companies into the haven of Pelargir, to where many of our kinsmen had fled.

I admit that i played a part in deceiving you, my lady, and your noble brother, and for that i am eternally repentant. But worse was the part i played in your pain. I am sure that by now it has been figured out that on the night you so cordially invited us to share of your meal for a second time, i wore a special ring which contained poison in a concealed hollow. I knew that if you should nurse your children between the time of your consumption of the poison and the time of your death, that they too would perish. I had second thoughts of this plan after our ride together this morning, but i was too much a coward to back out. Even now i have done the most cowardly thing a man can do.

I will not live much longer and already i grow drowsy. I shall lay down this night and never again see a sunrise. I came here for the freedom of Harad, yet i have surrendered my own freedom. My oath was to protect my kin with my life, i have given my life, but now see it is most likely that my actions have only brought more war and death to my people. I hope that someone shall think of me with something less than abhorrence, since i have spared Gondor's people the trouble of putting me through trial and execution, but i shall not grieve if none do. I would not ask it of anyone.

Farewell, fair lady. What love i ever had was in your sweet name.

Castamir

Aragorn laid the paper aside when he heard Faramir whisper to himself, "It was my fault...." He took his son steadily by the shoulders and said firmly, "You can not blame yourself for what has happened here, Faramir. Do you understand me? You must not believe that, i can not let you. I need you and Elboron needs you, you must not lapse into blaming yourself for this."

"Father, if i had but stayed here...." Faramir trailed off, trying hard to deny his tears.

"Then blame me, Faramir. It was i who wanted you to join me in Pelargir," Aragorn said seriously.

"Father, no. This is not your fault. You could not have known," Faramir said, losing his battle with his emotions.

"Than clearly nor could you have," Aragorn said. He sighed. "Faramir, my son, come, you need sleep. Elboron will be near you at all times, i have tripled the guard, come and rest tonight. Tomorrow is another day, and unfortunately that is going to mean another council meeting, with this new information."

Faramir rose, taking his son from Arwen's arms and walking with Aragorn back to his own chambers. He saw that the guard had already had Elboron's cradle placed in his own bedchamber and was comforted of that. Laying his peaceful little one down he said to his father, "I do not think i will be attending the meeting tomorrow. I can not stand to hold my tongue around those vipers anymore. Take the letter though. Do what is right, adar."

Aragorn nodded. "You have nothing to fear, my son. Please take your rest."

Faramir returned the nod, glad that Elboron would be near him. By some grace of the Valar both Faramir and Elboron slept soundly through the night, apparently neither in a mood to eat much of anything. It had been since the night before they arrived that Faramir had eaten, and even that was rather negligible.

It was just past sunrise when Faramir woke startled to a panicked pounding on his door. He desperately wanted to roll over and ignore it (after all, what could anyone have to panic about now) but he gathered what strength he had in the name of responsibility and answered the door.

"My Lord," a terrified Berethil cried, not even noticing that the Steward was clad in naught but his leggings. The poor woman looked stricken and could scarcely form rational words. "I... i... gone... i do not know...." The woman was incomprehensible and starting to worry Faramir when she knelt before him and begged for mercy.

Faramir looked up to see Aragorn emerging from his chambers at the commotion. Faramir just shrugged at him as he lifted the poor woman to stand. It was in vain, though, as the moment she saw Aragorn coming toward them she was immediately on her knees again. It would have been comical to the two men in any other circumstance.

"Come, Berethil," Aragorn said gently, also helping her to rise. "What troubles you, my lady?"

Faramir wanted to warn his father that he would get nothing sensible out of her but she began to babble to her King even worse than she had to the Steward. Neither of them could make out anything of much of what she carried on about, except for the name Elboron. They both realized that no one had told her about the move.

Faramir put his arm around the woman as she started to sob uncontrollably. "Berethil, my dear woman, come with me. My son is here with me, he is fine." Faramir led her into the bedchamber where he picked up a just waking Elboron, who wasted no time in grabbing onto his father's hair. Faramir smiled, not realizing how much he had missed that. "You see? He is quite well."

Faramir's smile fell, though, as he thought how Findiel had begun to pick up her brother's habit. He remembered the last time he held his little girl, and with it remembered that he would have to speak to Éomer at some point in the day. He had been feeling better that morning, but now he realized that this wasn't going to go away over night. Ever since he was a child he had wished that pain would do just that. It never did.

---

_I don't know about anyone else, but if Faramir answered the door in nothing but his leggings i don't think i would have been babbling incoherently - such is a time for action, not words! A nice break from all the visuals of tears and death, huh? :-D_

_Voldie: Now, now... don't be hasty. The last thing Faramir needs is more people setting themselves on fire._

_linda: Aragorn is definitely going to need to be present to Faramir for a while. Faramir really needs his dad right now. Don't worry, his council isn't going to last long._


	22. Tension Surfaces

That afternoon when Aragorn went to discuss with his council the question war (and also possibly to discern a few more names for replacement), Faramir went to Éomer to discuss funeral arrangements, though his heart was not in it.

Éomer invited him into his chambers cordially enough, though it could be said about him, too, that his heart was not in it. It was quite plain that neither man wanted to talk about the matter at hand with the other. Faramir noted that Lothíriel was not around at present.

The conversation started out civilly enough. Faramir did not argue that Éowyn should be laid to rest in Rohan, Éomer did not argue that Findiel should be with her. They both agreed to wait until Legolas, Gimli, and Glorfindel returned. Both men were really rather able to comfort one another. All was going well until Éomer said something about raising a mound over her burial house.

Faramir was caught short, knowing little of the funeral customs of Rohan. He had seen Théoden's funeral, but only from a distance. "Éomer," he said cautiously, "please explain to me what exactly is involved in your burial customs."

Éomer explained that Éowyn and Findiel would be laid together in a small house of sorts, then it would be covered by a mound upon which simbelmynë would be like to grow until the end of days.

That Faramir objected to. "My wife shall not be buried underground like a common-woman," he said vehemently.

Éomer was quite stunned, not to mention rather offended. "Common? Is that how you regard the customs of my people? My uncle the king was buried thusly, as was my cousin his son. Do you call them common then?"

"You would lie your people in the ground where in a few short years they shall become naught but food for worms?" Faramir said, sickened at the idea. "Our noble are not treated in such a manner. They lie in Rath Dinen, preserved and in peace."

"Rath Dinen, you say? Do i not recall hearing that blood was shed there not so very long ago?" Éomer queried pointedly.

"To save my life! Do you begrudge me that?" Faramir said.

"Begrudge you your life? Why, of course i do not, good Steward. My question is more to the point of what did you do to save my sister's life?" Éomer retorted.

Faramir was growing defensive at Éomer's tone. "What could i do? I hurried back here with all haste and by that time she was already dying. My father tried to help her, but she was beyond even his reach. But it is clear to me that you did nothing to guard my wife's well-being while i was away," he said with an attack of his own.

"I did all i could to keep my sister safe!" Éomer shouted. "And i always have! My only mistake was in allowing her to marry you and live so far away in this place of confinement."

"Clearly my mistake was in trusting you to look after her and my daughter while i was gone. I was a fool to leave this city thinking that it might be in good hands with you as a guardian," Faramir shot back. "And yet i would like to know who ever gave you the right to invite guests into the Citadel, especially without consulting my adjutant."

"Your adjutant? The Elf? I was not aware that i was required to report to him of all of my activities in your absence. Should i be reporting to you now, Steward?" Éomer asked in a mocking tone.

By then both men were on their feet and face to face. "I should be eternally grateful that i am a citizen of Minas Tirith and not of Edoras. I can not begin to imagine the lack of security there. Is it any wonder your uncle's mind was so corrupted?"

Éomer glowered dangerously, then suddenly smirked. "Shall we talk about corrupted minds, Faramir? What about your brother's father? To say nothing of what happened to you yourself several months ago."

That was more than enough for Faramir. As far as he was concerned, Éomer had knowingly crossed one too many lines. It was Faramir who threw the first punch, the first time he had ever started a fist fight in his life.

Things were going little better with the King's Council. After Aragorn read the letter aloud to them, they were more up in arms than ever before. More than one of them demanded war on Harad, to which Aragorn responded very angrily by making it quite clear that no one made demands on him.

Aragorn utterly refused war, and instead asked Erestor to draw up a communiqué to the leaders of Harad. This did nothing to placate a number of councilors and they were told to leave immediately. Those who remained said rather little the rest of the time. As far as Aragorn was concerned, those were very wise men. He decided to leave the meeting early again, having made his decision and thinking it more important to be with his son.

Aragorn thought to look for Faramir in his chambers, but hearing shouts from the direction of Éomer's apartments, he went to check in on his friend first.

Erestor went immediately to Faramir's study to work on the letter they would be sending to Harad. The dark-haired Elf had only just gotten through the door when he was grabbed around the waist from behind by a forceful pair of arms.

---

_So... things grow interesting again. Any bets on who has a hold of Erestor right now?_

_Elenhin: A pack of wolves indeed. I think Aragorn knows how to handle wolves though. I should hope. It may have been a good thing that Faramir did not go to that meeting - though it seems his relationship with his brother-in-law is rather strained at the moment._

_linda:Faramir was pretty much raised to blame himself for things beyond his control. He needs to learn to break that habit. The letter is sad. It shows plainly the humane side of Castamir warring with the more cruel side._


	23. A Long Day Ahead

Aragorn could not exactly make out the shouts coming from within the King of Rohan's apartments, but he was certain that he heard punches being thrown. Ordinarily, Aragorn was not a man to get involved in the disputes of others, but this sounded like a situation that needed his intervention.

Opening the door and proceeding to the King's sitting room, Aragorn received quite a shock to his best friend and son exchanging blows. It was the second time in his life, indeed the second time in his rule, that he had walked in on a serious altercation started by someone he never thought would start a fight.

"By Elbereth and Luthien! What is in the name of Udûn going on here?!" Aragorn exclaimed, not foolish enough to actually try to pry the combatants apart.

Éomer was actually the first to pull back. "Your son started this," he said accusatorily.

Aragorn stared agape. Éomer sounded like a child! What in all of arda could make these two grown men behave like boys? Granted, Éomer was eight years Faramir's junior, but still that didn't excuse.... Aragorn sighed realizing that these two were really bearing the hardest impact of Éowyn and Findiel's deaths. Unfortunately, this was how it erupted.

Faramir stood still and silent, his eyes closed. He would not deny that it had felt good to release some of his anger, but he was now appalled with himself for resorting to taking it out on another living being. He suddenly felt as though he was under Denethor's harsh stare again, although the former Steward probably would have praised him for starting a fight... or would have gone two-faced and chastised him for it just because he was who he was.

Aragorn saw how desperate Faramir looked, especially when the man's forehead dropped into his hand as his shoulders trembled and shook. Faramir had taken his fair share of the blows as much as he had dealt them, but that had nothing to do with the tears Faramir shed.

Faramir sank into a nearby chair, his head resting on his knees. "I can not handle this... i can not," he muttered tearfully. "I have never conducted myself so disgracefully or dishonorably. I have thrown punches at my kinsman, i have wept as though i have no rein over my emotions... I know not how to apologize for such a thing."

Aragorn sat beside his son thinking that he really should not have left him to deal with this on his own. "Faramir, i do not believe your actions have either been disgraceful or dishonorable. You are, as are Éomer and i, a mortal Man. I might have seen this coming, it is just a reaction to pain and anger and frustration. One that i understand all too well. I believe Éomer does as well," Aragorn said, looking across at the man who was also seated and feeling none to good about himself either.

Éomer nodded once. "I apologize to you, Faramir," he said haltingly, as though the words were new to him. "I said things in heat and anger, and unfortunately i do that too often. I just... i just do not know - how to face life without my sister," he said, choking over his words.

"I apologize to you," Faramir said, scarcely bothering to look up. He was no stranger to those words, not by a long shot. This time he said them with at least a modicum of feeling, more than he had in years past at any rate. It seemed after years of shutting off his feelings, it was now difficult to train them back into hiding. "I was thinking selfishly when i spoke. I know Éowyn hated it here, and i would not have her laid to rest anywhere but her homeland, nor with any other customs then those of her people."

The two former soldiers extended their right arms to one another in a gesture of brotherly fealty. That issue put down, Aragorn asked Faramir to join him in his chambers for a light luncheon, mostly as a way of getting the two to preserve their peace a little longer. He dearly hoped that they could get to Edoras in the funeral march without incident. Aragorn, for his part, was growing weary of funeral marches to Edoras.

---

Erestor stood still and silent in the dark of Faramir's study. His rational mind refused to be frightened into submission. Whoever had a hold of him, Erestor noted, was at least not holding a weapon to him. That was a mistake on his assailant's part. Erestor was a cautious Elf and went nowhere without some means of protection.

Another mistake on the aggressor's part was pinning Erestor's arms down in his hold. The dark-haired Elf decided to give the fool a lesson in taking a captive, it would have been much wiser to hold him by his arms alone. From where his arms were pinned, he was still able to reach inside the pocket of his robes and get a hold of the small (but deadly, if necessary) knife he had there.

Erestor could feel very plainly the warm, steady breathing against his ear, and as precarious as the situation was, and as trying as the week had been, he could not help but be mildly turned on by it. It was just an automatic reaction to the sensation. The next thing Erestor felt quite clearly was the sensation of something pressing against the back of his leg.

Erestor's initial thought was that whoever had him was in cahoots with the two Haradrim who had been in the city, and probably thought that he was Faramir. He wondered now though. This person seemed to be ordering his actions in such a way that seemed designed to turn him on. Still Erestor refused to get frightened; now he was just angry. If whoever this character was thought he was going to have his way with him, he had obviously never been introduced to Erestor o Imladris!

---

_Elenhin: It is difficult to imagine our dear Faramir getting into a fight - clearly even he had a hard time with the very idea. _

_Raska: I will not argue your opinion of Castamir or what you got out of his letter. I just have a lot of compassion. I see it as not so clear-cut a choice for him. A lifetime of lies and loyalty to one's nation/mission/etc can not just be changed by one day's worth of doubt. I never said Castamir wasn't a total coward, he took the easiest way out - not only ingesting poison, but also Enchanted water so that he would sleep through the pain before he died. I just don't equate cowardice with evil. I pitied whatever internal torment someone in his position has to go through.But that is just me._

_linda: One has to wonder if things will ever get better in Minas Tirith. Or anywhere in Middle-earth for that matter._

_I suppose we shall all have to wait until next chapter to find out what happens to Ere'. I feel as though i am beginning to drag this out. The funeral will be pretty soon though._

_Any new bets on who's got a hold of Master Erestor?_


	24. Some Small Reprieve

Aragorn and Faramir took their lunch along with Belthil rather quietly in the King's private chambers. It had been a while since any one of them had eaten a decent meal, and each was glad to have the company of the others.

After taking the light meal the three Men took to sitting by the hearth. Winter had at long last broken, but the chill still permeated the stone city. Aragorn drew out his pipe and just stared into the fire for some while before bothering to light it.

"You grow more like Mithrandir every day," Faramir mused of his father. "How i do miss him," he said softly.

"I? Become like Gandalf?" Aragorn said incredulously, taking advantage of Faramir's eased mood. "Perhaps it is time i trim my beard in that case!" he said tugging at his chin as if trying to gauge how long his beard had gotten. Faramir chuckled as did Belthil, who knew the wizard by name alone.

Someone at Aragorn's door cleared his throat noticeably. For the first time since Aragorn had mentioned going to Rivendell with Erestor and Glorfindel, what seemed months ago, Faramir's eyes lit with gladness instead of tears and Aragorn smiled genuinely.

"I take it my father kicked you out?" Aragorn asked his long-time friend as Faramir embraced his erstwhile mentor.

Gandalf straightened at that remark. "Master Elrond did no such thing!" he said with all dignity. "He might have given me a little nudge on my way...," the wizard added in a mumble.

Both Faramir and Aragorn smirked. "I know all about your nudges, Gandalf," Aragorn commented as they, too, embraced. "How is home?" Aragorn asked.

"Imladris is managing, though Elrond dearly wishes to have his two highest officials returned to him. Never has he done so much of his own work," Gandalf said with a wink. "But that is hardly important. How is _your_ home, Aragorn?"

It was amazing the tendency one had to forget one's troubles when the old wizard was around. Aragorn and Faramir glanced at one another. Neither could be fooled by Gandalf's innocent acts. For a moment there was an uncomfortable silence, then Gandalf sighed in defeat.

"I am truly that legible in these days? Well, of course you know that i know what has been going on. The future of Men and of all of Arda would not be in your own four capable hands otherwise," he said almost to himself before drawing Faramir toward him again. "I am sorry, Faramir. Too many losses have you had to bear in your few years." As much as Faramir had been trying to get a reign on his emotions, especially after he snapped at Éomer, with Gandalf to lean on the young Steward did not feel it necessary to hid his tears. "You do still remember what i told you when i first met you, do you not?" Gandalf asked kindly and so that only Faramir could hear.

"Of course i do, Mithrandir," Faramir said more calmly, feeling he had shed all the tears he had been hiding for the moment. "I would not have gotten far in my life without you."

"None of us would have gotten far at all without Gandalf," Aragorn said, eternally grateful for the wizard's presence at this time.

Gandalf then turned to Belthil. "Oh... young Belthil," he said with a grin. "I see you have found your way home. And sufficiently healed, i take it?"

Belthil recognized Gandalf the moment he had appeared at the door. "You saved my life," Belthil said in awe, remembering the elderly man who got him off the battlefield when he was wounded at Pelennor.

Gandalf smiled warmly. "Of course i did. What else could i do for your uncle's only nephew?"

"How can i ever rightly thank you?" Belthil said, feeling at a loss.

"You already have," Gandalf said genuinely. At the young man's puzzled expression he continued, "You have returned to where you belong, where i knew your presence would do the most good, Belthil, son of Boromir."

Aragorn smiled bittersweetly. He knew he would sorely miss Gandalf when he sailed to his home in the West in not so long a time. "You will excuse me, gentlemen," Aragorn said, slipping away to go have a chat with Éomer now that he was sure Faramir would be all right. It was true that one did tend to feel a great easing of one's pain when Mithrandir came to call. Aragorn sincerely hoped that his old friend had come across his wife at some point, since he would be going to her immediately once he and Éomer finished their discussion.

---

Erestor's fingers had just touched the hilt of his knife when his assailant tighten his grip with his left arm, allowing his right hand to travel over the Noldo's shoulder and neck... down his chest... over his thighs... and all capped with the tiniest flicker of his tongue at the Elf's ear-point.

That was all Erestor was going to stand for. Some might have gone along just to deny their attacker the satisfaction of exerting force, not to mention the fact that no Elf alive was able to resist that manner of sensation at the extremely delicate ear-point.

Erestor, however, was not the kind of Elf to let hedonism run away with him. Not by a long shot.

Getting a good grip on his knife, Erestor first thrust his right arm back into his captor's ribs so suddenly and forcefully that the invader, having allowed that bit of weakness on that side by only keeping a hold of him with his left arm, immediately let go. Erestor knew at once that he was not truly hurt, but more stunned at the response. The advisor's knife went directly to the throat of the attack.

"_Man le? Pedo hí!_" Erestor hissed.

A strangled laugh came from the captor turned captive. "_Ai! Meleth!_ Turn not kinslayer, i beg of you. _Saes!_"

Erestor dropped his knife immediately and stood in shock. "Glorfin-.... You idiot!" he cried, giving the blond a shove and going to start a fire in the fireplace. "_Le dol na lost!_"

Glorfindel grinned. "Yes, i am glad to be back. No, the trip wasn't terribly boring. Really? I missed you too, meleth." Glorfindel prattled on, pretending to have a conversation with Erestor, only without Erestor's participation.

"All right! Welcome back, i missed you... you idiot," Erestor amended his greeting. "What in Elbereth's name were you thinking, anyway, lying in wait for me to come through that door and then attacking me? I might have killed you. Have you any idea what has gone on around here?"

"Actually, i was really lying in wait for Faramir," Glorfindel said in a mock-confession. Erestor was not amused. Glorfindel sighed. "Fine, have it your way. I just thought that after a while on the road... you know, an Elf does like to come back to a warm bed. And i definitely had a mental image of my beautiful dark one waiting for me...," Glorfindel said, punctuating his words with soft kisses to Erestor's neck.

Erestor was still not amused. The dark-haired Elf slipped away from his lover and planted himself firmly behind Faramir's desk after drawing back several of the heavy curtains. "You really don't know how things have been here, do you? Otherwise you are just so incredibly selfish and single-minded...." Erestor said. "Well, let me fill you in."

Glorfindel waved a hand. "There is no need, Ere'. I know something is wrong with the Lady Éowyn. I envisioned her death and thought there was nothing for her, but then i realized that if Aragorn and Faramir reached her with enough speed.... Well, tell me they did, of course. They left days ago and had good winds."

Erestor just shook his head.

---

_Elenhin: Was that enough of a plot-twist? :) Not quite young Belthil, but i didn't forget about him either. _

_linda: Glad i'm not rushing. I always try to be realistic and put a "human" face on things. And yes, Aragorn has the hardest job in Middle-earth. He has to take care of everyone's needs. He's rather been neglecting his own since he left Rivendell at 20, though. _

_I guess you all knew i couldn't leave Glor' and Ere' alone for long. Nice to see good old Gandalf again, too._


	25. Mustering Strength

While Faramir was able to find comfort in Gandalf's company, his brother-in-law found relatively little comfort in his talk with Aragorn. It was difficult for Éomer to discuss preparations for his sister's funeral, especially with one culprit still at large, because through their lives they had always depended on one another so very closely. Éomer had even spoken to Aragorn of a desire to war against Harad, but the King of Gondor was vehement that if Éomer made that decision Rohan would not be going in with Gondor's aid. Éomer argued that but Aragorn refused to argue back. He came to bear the duty of his son in preparing for Éowyn's funeral, nothing more.

Once done Aragorn finally made his way to find Arwen again. It had seemed like a life-age since he had held his wife. He found Arwen and Lothíriel looking after Elboron and for a few moments all of Aragorn's strife melted away as he thought that before long he would have a new son or daughter of his own. Holding his precious grandson, Aragorn was reminded, with a sharp tug at his beard, of who he had wanted to introduce Elboron to.

Lothíriel went to find her husband on Aragorn's advice that he needed her support. Arwen, Aragorn, and Elboron went back to where Faramir, Belthil, and Gandalf were in the King's chambers.

"Elboron, son of Faramir the true," Aragorn said, "is it my greatest honor to present you to Gandalf the White."

Gandalf took the babe in his arms, setting his pipe aside, and for a moment Elboron stared raptly at the wizard before giving a pull to his long whiskers. Elboron was delighted to no end with Gandalf's laughter. As much as he was content to hang on to his father's hair after Faramir took his child, Elboron had never seen a beard that long except on Gimli, and the Dwarf Lord didn't exactly hold the Steward's son very often. It was a great offense to tug on the beard of a Dwarf.

Aragorn decided that he need not bring up the matter of the funeral just now, not when things were at last a little at ease for Faramir. Oddly enough, it seemed now to Aragorn that Faramir was not having any trouble talking of the dead as he was speaking much of Boromir to Belthil, the younger man drawing in every precious word about the father he never had. Faramir had just opened the letter that Belthil had given to him in the inn at Pelargir that afternoon. Aragorn did not understand this sudden turn until Gandalf whispered to him, reminding him of what he had told his Mortal friend when his mother died 13 years ago. Aragorn nodded then, understanding what made it so much easier for Faramir.

That evening the King decided to have one finally meeting with his councilors before he left the next morning. He dreaded it but wanted to make it absolutely clear that while those going to Edoras were away the Queen would rule and that he would show no mercy to anyone who dared defy him on that. The day he returned to Minas Tirith he would be choosing a new council anyway.

Entering the council chambers with Faramir, who had insisted that he come along this time, Aragorn ignored whatever gestures of respect the pack of dogs that was his council decided to exhibit to him. The King was soon to learn, yet again, that there is no rest, even for the weary. Hardly had he begun the meeting, but the questions came rapid-fire about the wisdom of the King and Steward leaving the city so soon again. That had been expected and Aragorn assured them that security measures had already been put into place.

Then came the questions once again of declaring war, yet still Aragorn refused. He made it clear that he would do nothing to jeopardize more innocent lives for the sake of revenge, giving a brief lecture on the fragility of Mortality. When one councilor, it was the outspoken Gwaithir again, commented that he sounded more like an Elf than a Mortal, Aragorn reminded him that he had been raised in the peaceful home of Elrond.

"Yes, and raised to act like him, too! You refuse to risk war, just as the Elves refused to aid us last year. Had they sent help we would not have been so pressed!" the councilor dared.

"Those whom i call my brothers, Elrond's sons, fought side-by-side with me at Pelennor and before the Black Gate," Aragorn shot back. "And it was through them that Elrond's advice came to take command of the Army of Dead at Erech. My longtime friend Legolas of Mirkwood also fought beside me, and every member of our fellowship was aided by the Elves of Lorien. Without Elven aid my s-Steward would not have survived last fall. I will not hear in my court that the Elves gave to us no aid."

"Elves! Ha! The Elves certainly have groomed you to be the one who orders the future of Men. I am not even convinced that you have a rightful claim to that throne you occupy," Gwaithir said with a boldness that shocked everyone present, with the exception of Aragorn. He had been waiting for this issue to be raised. He only wondered why it had to be done now.

"I refuse to discuss that matter on the eve of a funeral march," Aragorn said with a frightening calm. "You may raise the subject when i convene the council upon my return. Not before." Rising, he left the room quickly, Faramir wasting no more time than his father.

Father and son bid one another a weary goodnight before retiring to their chambers to try to get a decent night's rest before the march on the morrow. It was going to be a trying day ahead and Aragorn was glad to learn that Gandalf had left for him a flask of miruvor before taking a night walk in the healing gardens.

---

When Aragorn woke the next morning he realized just how much he hated to leave Arwen, especially in her condition. She would not hear it though and sent him along at once to get ready for the next week or more of traveling. Traveling was one thing for the Ranger who was still rather used to traveling light and at his own pace, but funeral marches were simply grueling with a somber pace and taking along what gear was necessary for one to look respectable at all times.

Once sure that he had everything he would need, including his old sword with the knife in the scabbard (despite Arwen's insistence that it did not look well with his regal garments), he went to find Faramir. His son was just getting ready to come find him, Berethil following her Lord closely with the Steward's son trying to pull at hairs that strayed from her under her wimple. Faramir flatly refused to leave his son behind and even arranged for a coach to bear Elboron and his nurse.

"You are certain you are ready for this, Faramir?" Aragorn asked gently.

Faramir nodded. "I had not been thinking of Mithrandir's words on the subject until he arrived. I can handle this now, i am certain of it."

Aragorn nodded in return and they went out to the courtyard together. He knew the words Faramir was referring to and knew that they had both been sworn to secrecy about them. Privileged were the few who ever got to hear of what happened once one had crossed the veil of death before experiencing it themselves. They both guessed that even Gandalf shouldn't be sharing the information with them, but were immensely glad that he had done.

---

_Elenhin: I like the thought that young Belthil would protect Faramir... he'd get that from his father :) Gandalf's "nudge" from the Hobbit_ _(which is also a most excellent restaurant in Ocean City, Maryland, by the way) - well, it was comical. Though i do not think old Bilbo thought so at the time. I would say it is the hallmark of a good writer to find a way when all paths seem blocked - thank you for your observation!_

_linda: Gandalf is always popping up when you least expect him, and almost always when he is really needed. It is definitely good that he is there for Faramir right now, and for Aragorn too. But it is doubtful that even Gandalf could have saved Eowyn and Findiel, the Maiar are not supposed to intervene thusly. But then again, Gandalf always was a bit of a rule breaker. I think Manwe probably had some serious words for him when he sailed with the Ring Keepers._


	26. Hopes and Doubts

Entering the courtyard, father and son saw most of the funeral march prepared. Together they would process through the tunnel down to the sixth level to meet the funeral carriage of Éowyn and Findiel. Aragorn knew that this was going to be extremely difficult for Faramir, knowing that his wife and daughter were inside that box, but not being able to hold them ever again. Even Gandalf's words were little consolation against one's own sense of loss.

It was indeed a difficult moment for the Steward. The last time he had been in this situation he was only five years of age and it was his mother's body in a box. Faramir couldn't help but think that it was easier then because they were going to Fen Hollin and not to Edoras. Faramir had prepared himself, though, as much as he could for this. He still had his father and his son, and now there was also his brother's son, and even Boromir was only his brother by half, Belthil was still another blood connection. Though Faramir could never explain why, it meant something to him, it meant a lot to him.

Faramir held Elboron while Berethil got into the carriage. He was rather sorry that his son was wrapped up so snugly for the journey, he half expected Elboron's tiny hands to be buried in his hair by now. Faramir rethought his choice of expression in that though. He knew he would need to keep himself in check for at least the next couple weeks. He dearly hoped that this march would not be the march of nearly three weeks that was afforded Theoden. Much like his father, riding at his own pace was no problem for the former Ranger, but long, dour marches were excruciating, particularly when the march was on account of the death of one's wife and daughter. Faramir tried diligently to drive those thoughts from his mind and now he sincerely wished that his little son was able to reach his locks, if only for the distraction.

For Faramir, distraction came in the form of Erestor, who was still torn as to whether it would be better for him to accompany the funeral march or to remain in Minas Tirith. It was clear that Faramir needed as many friends as possible at the moment. Faramir assured Erestor that he would be all right and that he would feel much better knowing that his office was looked after while he was away, and also that the Queen was not left on her own while the King was away. All involved knew it was out of the question for Arwen to accompany a funeral march to Edoras in her condition.

Glorfindel, however, was going along. Walking up to Erestor and wrapping his arms around him from behind, Erestor turned quickly, a light of annoyance shining in his eyes - exactly the way Glorfindel had hoped to see. "Did i not warn you about that the last time? Perhaps my knife against your throat did not convince you that i do not like that, meleth?"

Glorfindel ignored him though and leaned in closer. "Coming along, are you? You seem to be dressed for a funeral... though, you always are," he teased.

"Perhaps that is because i am always contemplating kinslaying whenever you are around. Or perhaps it is simply because i choose not to blind others at any given moment," Erestor hissed back at his lover.

Glorfindel's kiss put an end to their potential argument though and Erestor softened and entreated of the Golden One, "Promise me that you will be gone no longer than is decent, whatever the mortal expectation is."

Glorfindel simply nodded.

"And do not go back to Imladris without me, even if it is a straight shot from Edoras up north along the Misty Mountains," Erestor said seriously before kissing the pout from his lover's lips.

The scene between Aragorn and Arwen was little different. He held her closely in his arms, his hands then straying to rest on her abdomen, over the hardly perceptible swell there. There was a light in Aragorn's eyes as he looked back up into Arwen's, both smiling the same smile. She leaned against him, gripping his shoulder slightly when she felt a kick, but she recovered and smiled all the brighter for Aragorn's concern.

"Is it is not early for that yet?" he asked in fear.

Arwen only shook her head. Elven pregnancies were not exactly like those of Mortal women. "I shall be glad when he is born though, then it will be your turn to do the carrying," she said with a slight smirk.

Aragorn's gaze filled with wonder. "He?" he asked softly.

"It is a mother's intuition," Arwen replied, "not necessarily my foresight."

Aragorn was pleased none the less and could not help but feel that this was a chance for him to experience what he had missed in Faramir's youth. Yet this child would never replace that nor be expected to. Aragorn's heart held room enough for all of them.

There was no parting for Éomer and Lothíriel, but they held fast to one another none the less. Éomer was in desperate need of her strength at the moment. His own strength was failing fast and even with Lothíriel there for him, he could not help feeling left alone.

At long last it came time to depart and giving Elboron over to Berethil's care, Faramir mounted and rode to the forefront with his father and brother-in-law. Faramir wondered if ever there would be a respite in the tests he seemed to face unceasingly in his life.

It had been a week since leaving Minas Tirith when those who were former Rangers began to grow weary of the extended pace. A week and they were only halfway to Edoras, if that. Ordinarily, Aragorn did not like to sleep in the tents which were constructed each evening. To him it felt too much like declaring one's self a target and he almost always felt safer sleeping under a tree. One could take the Ranger out of the wild, but never could one take the Ranger out of the King.

On this march, however, Aragorn did sleep in the pavilion constructed for him. There were only a few tents constructed, two of which bore the emblems of Rohan. There were two large pavilions, one flying the royal banner of Gondor, the other the royal banner of Rohan. Between them was a very small tent decorated in Rohan's colors, but flying the standards of both countries. Though Aragorn detested this set-up, which would speak very plainly to any potential enemy just who was housed where for the night, he did not protest. Nor did his sword leave his side, though.

Gondor's pavilion was large enough to sleep not only Aragorn, but Faramir and Gandalf as well. Berethil's own tent was set just to the side of their pavilion, but Faramir would not sleep without his son directly beside him.

Belthil, too, had been invited to join them, but he declined, preferring to assist the night watch when he could. Faramir understood immediately. Boromir was quite the same and often suffered insomnia, as Aragorn and Gandalf were also aware.

One night Aragorn found himself restless as well and decided to walk for a while instead of vainly remaining in bed. Apparently, he was not the only one. Belthil was on watch near Berethil's tent and Éomer seemed to be keeping his own personal watch at the small tent between the two great pavilions. Aragorn went to sit beside Éomer after lighting his pipe from the watch fire.

Éomer, however, was disconsolate. Aragorn spoke not at all, sympathizing with, even if he could not know, how his friend was feeling. Éomer has lost both his mother and father at a young age. More recently his dear cousin and uncle had both been victims of the War of the Ring. Now it was his sister and niece. The only blood relative Éomer had left was Elboron. Aragorn himself had never really felt the loss of his father and the only blood relative he ever knew other than his son was his mother.

Éomer refused the silent offer of Aragorn's pipe, but the scent of pipeweed did draw out another. Gandalf, too, emerged from Aragorn's tent and took up alongside the two Kings of Men. Taking out his own pipe, the White Wizard thought to offer it to Éomer, but guessed that Aragorn already had done. Gandalf saw clearly than any just what Éomer was trying so hard to endure. It was Gandalf's hushed question that broke the silence.

"For whom do you grieve, Éomer?" Gandalf asked. Aragorn looked quizzically at his old friend, but knew he was going somewhere with his question.

Éomer did not think there was anywhere to go and turned to glare at the wizard. "What mean you by that obtuse question, Greyhame?" Éomer said angrily. "You know as well as i do who lie in that tent inside a burial box."

"Of course i do, young Éomer, but again i ask you, for whom do you grieve?" Gandalf said. At that point Aragorn took a keen interest in stirring the watch fire with a stick, even if it was nowhere near dying out.

"I grieve for my sister and niece," Éomer spat, "for whom do you think i grieve?"

"I think you grieve for yourself," Gandalf said calmly.

"For myself?!" Éomer said, a little louder than necessary and probably waking the lighter sleepers in their company.

"That is what i said," Gandalf replied.

"And why do you think that, Gandalf Greyhame?"

"I believe i know it, Éomer. I have never grieved, not even for the passing of dear friends of mine. Rather, you should rejoice," Gandalf said with a conviction that Éomer could not comprehend.

"Rejoice?!" Éomer shouted, not bothering to contain his shock, nor caring who he had wakened when he considered that no amount of his shouting would ever waken his sister and niece.

Gandalf was not in the least surprised by Éomer's upset and still spoke calmly. "Éomer, my young friend, we may grieve for ourselves alone, but in truth it is selfish to do so. Those who have died and departed Arda should be given every honor for the lives they lived, but should not be grieved simply because their deeds here have come to an ending."

"Perhaps that is find for the Elves and Wizards and such beings high in favor with the gods, but for Men it is not so. For are not Elves reunited with their loved ones in the Undying Lands? Gandalf, you are wise, indeed, yet you do not know what it is to lose the ones you most love," Éomer said, no longer shouting but now in desperation.

"No, Éomer, i have seen many die, but not those i have loved most. But i myself do understand death. You may also speak to Lord Glorfindel," Gandalf said, pointing to a tree in the distance which seemed to glow as if a candle had been set in it's branches. We both have ventured beyond the veil and returned to tell the tale, but i have known the White Shores since the first of my being. I have known Lord Námo whose dwelling is Mandos, though i have already spoken overmuch of that and perhaps you should in fact ask Lord Glorfindel. What i mean to tell you, Éomer, is that it is those who have gone before who should weep for those of us still here. Not otherwise."

Éomer shook his head through the tears, unable, or perhaps rather more unwilling, to understand what Gandalf was trying to say and growing entirely frustrated. He did not want anyone's sympathies or explanations of death, he wanted his sister alive again. Éomer could have borne it, had Éowyn died in battle with the honor of such a death, but to die because of an enemy's poison, an enemy whom she had warmed to and who had gained her confidence, no less. And worst of all was that she was put into the line of danger by, as Éomer felt, his own sense of diplomacy over his sense of protectiveness. Éomer rose and left Gandalf, going back into his pavilion. He wanted no companionship that night.

Only then did Aragorn return to Gandalf's side and the two decided to return to Aragorn's tent where they continued to speak in hushed voices. Faramir had been woken by Éomer's shouts and lie awake, Aragorn and Gandalf both knew, but they had nothing to conceal from him and he would fall back into sleep soon enough. That was if Elboron did not decide to wake his father and insist on being taken to his nurse for feeding.

Aragorn's attention was focused on his sleeping grandson and thinking of his future as a Steward. He had been thinking about the son Arwen believed she would bear him and his future as well. He hoped they would grow up to be friends and wondered when or if they would be told of their relation.

Aragorn sat back wearily. "This is all so complicated, Gandalf. I never wanted the kingship and i still do not, yet i bear it as best i can only hoping that it is enough. My son loves his Stewardship even if it demanding on him and yet, if what Arwen says comes to be, i will have a second son who shall inherit my crown and all that goes along with it. I feel i have given my first son all he has wanted, and condemned my second. And yet can my second born ever know that Faramir is his elder brother or must this be concealed forever? I am likely not even entitled to any of this, the fair or the foul."

Gandalf looked intently at Aragorn, wondering where he had gotten that idea, even though he knew he was not the first to have it. "And what, of all you have seen and done, should ever make you think that you are not the rightful King of Gondor? Have you ever once before doubted, since the day of your 20th year, that you are the heir of Elendil?" Gandalf much preferred to call Aragorn Elendil's heir rather than Isildur's as it simply made Aragorn more comfortable to think of it that way.

Aragorn shook his head. "I have not doubted it, but there are those who do. And, if i have interpreted them correctly, and i likely have not for they make utterly no sense to me, accord to the laws of Gondor -"

Gandalf interrupted, though he nearly choked on a mis-inhaled puff. "Laws of Gondor, indeed! If the laws of Gondor were always followed to the letter, the Ring would have ended up in Denethor's hands and no one but Sauron himself would have ever gotten it loose, and i do not doubt that just that would have come to pass. Furthermore, i know that Denethor did doubt your right, but you can clearly see why. Boromir, in the end, did not doubt you, and Faramir never has."

Aragorn sighed. "I know that, but it seems that it will be difficult for me to prove anything to those who do doubt me. I know of what they speak. There was a time when one of the Chieftains did not have a male heir, only a daughter."

"By the Balrog's wings! And was Luthien any less an heir of Thingol?" Gandalf cried, trying to contain his voice.

"Of course not, but it is different for Elves, Gandalf. You know that. According to the laws of Gondor, that man's brother, or whatever nearest male blood relative, should have inherited the house, and i know as much that that did not happen and in Gondor's eyes the line was, legally speaking, broken then."

"And who is King of Gondor? A man, flesh and blood, or laws, parchment and fading ink?" Gandalf challenged. "Do not think you can back out of your crown so easily. Not whilst i still dwell upon this side of the Sea."

"I am not trying to Gandalf. I am only trying to figure out how i shall ever address that matter. I can not simply change the laws as i wish. Some i can and already have changed, but to simply change what i want because i want to is tyranny."

Gandalf's smile was reassuring to Aragorn though. "The people love you, Elessar. Is that not enough? So there are a few dissenters. That shall always be so, but they would be run out of the kingdom at the first mention that they disbelieve you. Have your own deeds not proved to you yourself who you are? Who, but the rightful heir of Elendil, could have ever summoned the army at Erech? Who, but the rightful heir of Elendil, could have stood before the Black Gate and drawn Sauron's gaze? Who, but the rightful heir of Elendil, could have brought back so many from the edge of death with the Athelas leaf? Who, but the rightful heir of Elendil, would Elrond have loved as his own son who was not so?"

"There were some i could not bring back, Gandalf," Aragorn said, shifting the subject as his gaze went toward the tent in which Éowyn and Findiel's casket lay.

Gandalf lay a hand to his friend's shoulder. "Aragorn, ever have you expected the impossible of yourself before you counted yourself worthy. You take uponyourself everyone else's troubles while your own go untended. I myself saw the vial of poison that was used. That mixture was one that even Elrond could not have cured them of, certainly not after several days."

"I feel as though i failed, Gandalf. Not only them, but Faramir and Éomer as well. I was not good enough this time, my best was not enough," Aragorn said dejectedly.

Faramir, hearing his father's misery, spoke up. "Father, do not take the fault upon yourself, please. You had done all that was in your power and you can not take blame for a power you do not possess. Nor can you be bitter for it. If anyone can bear blame, other than those who concocted and administered the poison, it is i. I should have stayed with them. I would have died for them."

"Faramir," Gandalf said sharply but compassionately, "neither you nor Aragorn can begin to bear any of this blame. I want you both to understand that well. If you all begin insisting on a share of the blame it will lead to worse troubles. Éomer is included in that, even though, perhaps later, but he will not hear me at this time. Those left behind must band together, there is yet much to be accomplished. The only thing that we have accomplished yet is clearing the path to begin our work."

"You speak as if you would stay to help us, Mithrandir," Faramir said, with the slightest touch of hope in his voice.

Gandalf shook his head. "I would, Faramir, i would. But i can not. I should rather have said your work. At times i wish it could be my work."

"Your work has been enough, Gandalf, and for it i shall ever thank you. Now, i think we can all agree, however, that sleep is in order more than debate," Aragorn said, deciding that that night was not one for discussion anymore, but that some manner of rest should be attempted.

Gandalf nodded, tapping out the remains from his pipe. "Remember this, Aragorn, any man who wants to be King should never be King. It is because you do not want to hold power that you must hold it. I second the motion for sleep."

The motion was passed by Faramir and sleep was taken by the three.

---

_Wow... so sorry for the update delay. Except for that little one-shot i did, i ended up with a little case of writer's block and decided not to push it and just let it run its course. I'm back though, and hopefully, the length here will help make up for the time it took._

_linda: No, the councilors are going to be staying behind, thankfully so too is Erestor and we all know that he doesn't put up with much in the way of aberration. There are some tensions to be dealt with in this funeral. Some seen here, some yet to come._

_Elenhin: I'm thinking Aragorn wishes right about now that he was a good writer who could write himself out of his throne in such a way that no one gets hurt. He still doesn't like being King very much, but i think once he gets a new council things will get better for him. _


	27. Brothers in Arms

Though sleep did come to the three who rested in the King of Gondor's pavilion, it had no intention of staying very long. Just about the time each of them was just dropping into a deeper sleep, a scream coming from Éomer's pavilion pierced the night.

Faramir jumped up from where he lay, mindful of his son who was now also crying. "Father, take him to Berethil," Faramir said, his heart pounding in his chest. "That was my cousin." Faramir rushed out of the tent just in time to catch Lothíriel coming toward theirs in a panic. He held her tightly to calm not only her but himself. He knew his cousin and it could have been nothing more than a little field mouse that sparked her panic. But then again, after 36 years of living in Mordor's shadow, Faramir was still slightly suspicious of every twig-snap.

"What happened, 'Thíri?" Faramir asked gently.

His cousin still trembled and clutched to him. "Someone tried... tried to... one of the guards, i thought, but then he...." Lothíriel could not find the words to tell her cousin that there was a man in her bed. She knew that her husband had risen from his sleep some time during the night, she heard him leave their tent, though their beds were separated by a curtain across the middle of the tent.

Faramir, however, sensed what she was getting at and bid her stay where she was as he fetched his sword and went cautiously into the Rohan pavilion. "Come, show yourself, brigand!" he shouted.

"And what is your argument with me now, brother-by-law?" Éomer said wearily from his bed.

"Where is he? Lothíriel said there was a strange man in here," Faramir said, quiet unhappy that Éomer would have done nothing about his wife's screams.

"Strange man? Some may think me so, certainly i did doubt it of my own wife, however," Éomer said beginning to rise. For some reason Faramir had not lowered his steel and Éomer did not feel like being slain in his own bed. "And tell me, why does your cousin react so to my touch?"

"_Your_ touch?" Faramir said incredulously. "She took you for a stranger, Éomer. Next time you might warn her!" he said, thrusting his sword into the ground and going back out to Lothíriel.

"I can see why she would take me for a stranger," Éomer continued, following Faramir out. "She refuses to even share my quarters for a night," he said as though his wife was not standing right there.

"Éomer, if you have some quarrel with me, i would appreciate you telling me myself and not my cousin," she said heatedly.

Éomer bowed sarcastically as if thrilled that she would speak directly to him. "I would, my lady, except that i thought to find a liaison for discourse with you. Perhaps i should also find a liaison for inter-"

Before he could finish his words Faramir had a handful of his shirt and was mere inches from his face. "Guard your tongue in the presence of a lady!" he hissed.

Éomer hit his hand away and hissed back, "I need no one to tell me how to acquit myself, Lord Faramir. You, however, would do well to keep your hands from me from here on out, lest i cry treason. Mayhap you forget that it was you who threw the first punch last time?"

"I do not take threats, Éomer King," Faramir spat and turned to walk away.

"I had rather thought that i was marrying for love, Lothíriel," Éomer said bitterly. "Or, at least that was the impression you gave me. I did not think that our union was solely to be advantageous to our two kingdoms," he said pointedly, plainly directing his words to Faramir instead of his wife.

Faramir did not miss the intention and turned abruptly to face down Éomer again. "I never married Éowyn for political reasons," he said flatly, trying not to allow his brother-in-law to incite his anger again.

Éomer, however, no longer cared what he said. "No, quite right, you married her because she would be disgraced otherwise. At least you had that decency, even if it was your fault that she would have been disgraced in the first place. Likely you were more concerned with protecting yourself than her, as it was."

Faramir was dangerously close to boiling over again, but he took a deep breath and calmed himself. Even through his anger he was able to understand that this was the result of what Éomer was going through and he took pity on him. "I married Éowyn because i loved her, Éomer," he said calmly, trying to bring back peace.

"Are you sure?" Éomer questioned. "I know for a fact that you were not at the time. No one was ever sure what your next action might be and some of us thought you might be going a little mad. It is nothing to be ashamed of, a common trait among Stewards of Gondor."

It was Aragorn's hand on his son's shoulder that kept Faramir from returning that comment. The King of Gondor walked passed Faramir and took a good grip of Éomer's shoulders. They were friends and allies, yes, but every so often Aragorn felt the need to make things clear to his younger colleague. "You know well what influence my son faced," Aragorn said in a low voice.

"What? This 'Morgoth' character?" Éomer rejoined, not actually buying that excuse for Faramir's strange behaviors the year before.

At that it was Gandalf's turn to get involved, fearing that Aragorn's temper was much less controllable than his son's. "Éomer, you refused my counsel once this night. You would be wise to accept it this time."

Aragorn let go of Éomer and turned to Gandalf. "You know what happened to him?" he said surprised.

"Of course i do, Aragorn. The evil of Morgoth might never be vanquished from Middle-earth entirely, and at that time it seemed to gather itself as the snake does to strike your house, but you rejected it," Gandalf said, speaking to both Aragorn and Faramir. "That is another proof of your right, Aragorn. You are both more than strong enough to endure -"

Éomer interrupted Gandalf... never a good idea. "What little i know of this Morgoth is that the Powers removed him and cast him into the Void. Would you tell me now that the Void has been breached and this terror loosed upon us? We might just as well have given ourselves to Sauron if that be the case!"

"Speak not of what you do not know, Éomer, son of Éomund!" Gandalf thundered. "Listen, rather, to my counsel, that you may understand," he said more gently. Gandalf proceeded to explain to Éomer just how the evil influences that were still a part of Middle-earth managed to gain temporary and sporadic sway over Faramir's innermost thoughts.

It might be said that Éomer still did not entirely understand the matter, but that would have taken a year's worth of covering the history of Arda, from the first note of the Song on through all the tales that the Elves still tell. It was enough for all involved to simply agree to lay their disputes and tensions aside and to conduct this funeral in something that at least resembled a decorous manner.

---

_AM: Glad to hear from you again! Insightful or not, your comments are always welcome. That goes for everyone else too :)_

_linda: Yes, they are all getting in some Academy Award winning scenes here. Poor Eomer is having such a hard time coping, and, i think, when he sees that this is easier on Faramir because Faramir has listened to Gandalf's description of the continuing journey beyond death, it makes him angry and bitter. Aragorn is having a hard time keeping everybody peaceful and comforted and is sparing nothing for himself, as usual. Glad you are enjoying the story!_

_Hope everyone had a lovely Christmas and here's to a great new year._


	28. The Wizard's Pupil

Sleep was a luxury that not even the King of Gondor could buy or the White Wizard could conjure that night. If Aragorn had missed his days as a Ranger, replete with sleepless nights and all, he was starting to wonder why. And yet, it was certainly easier than ruling Gondor had been lately.

Berethil was waiting in the King's tent to return Elboron to his father, who was extraordinarily grateful to hold his son. Aragorn offered to escort Berethil back to her tent, claiming that "it never was wise for young ladies to wander alone in the night." The matron blushed at her King's tease, but to Aragorn, she was but ten years older than his son and still only half his age.

Faramir sat down wearily on his bed, his son starting to fall asleep in his arms. His mind rapidly was filling with doubts. Why did he lose his temper with Éomer so much lately? He had so frequently stood his ground without flinching when Denethor lashed out at him, so was did he allow Eomer to goad him? Why had he married Éowyn? If he really loved her, why had they so often argued? Why did ill fortune always seek him out? What if his son would have to face the same trials in his life? Faramir felt overcome with despondency and lacked even the will to allow cleansing tears to refresh him.

Naturally, it was Gandalf who pulled him from his thoughts. "You bear a cumbersome burden, young Faramir," the old wizard said.

"I bear no burden but that of my own making, Mithrandir," Faramir said, an edge of guilt to his voice that had been there for most of his childhood and all of his adult years.

"And what burden did you create for yourself, my friend?" Gandalf asked.

Faramir sighed raggedly. "A thousand burdens, Mithrandir. I likely have all of my life. I have always chosen the hard way, ever since i was young. I could have been a good, obedient lad and minded when i was told not to cross your path. I could have easily conformed to Denethor's law and taken the Ringbearer to him. I could have abided by hope and not lost heart that black night."

Gandalf smiled warmly. "Not unlike another young lad i am acquainted with, who also has always taken the hardest and longest road. Faramir, look rather on the good that has come your way, for we all must face hardship."

"But why does so much hardship single me out, Mithrandir? Is it because i am weak that it preys on me?" Faramir asked, begging for understanding.

"No! Quite the opposite!" Gandalf said quickly. "It is because you are strong that you have had to face much, Faramir. The weak could never have come through all that you have. If your father has taught you nothing of your worth by now...," Gandalf said, shaking his staff menacingly.

Faramir chuckled slightly as when Aragorn reentered the pavilion he was met with the glare of a wizard who was holding fast to his staff. Aragorn looked like he suddenly fancied a long walk until the sun rose, which was not far off. Mustering his courage, however, Aragorn decided to ignore his old friend's mood and lie in his bed while he still could. The King of Gondor was developing a Balrog of a headache and did not crave the coming day's march one bit.

Faramir's talk with Gandalf was making him feel much better, if only to unburden himself of the unpleasant things that had been festering in his mind and heart. Gandalf did not mind, he understood that this was something Faramir needed to share with someone. Aragorn already knew by dint of proximity to their quarters, and surely Faramir did not want to burden his father further with his troubles, especially where Éowyn had been concerned. Before continuing his talk with Faramir, however, Gandalf searched through his traveling sack and tossed over to Aragorn a small pouch filled with lavender.

"Hannon le," Aragorn said very sincerely. He had been annoyed with himself for not bringing some of his own along. Never a day in his life had the man been plagued by headaches until the crown of Eärnur was set upon his head.

"Things between Éowyn and i had been rocky the last few months, even after the little ones were born," Faramir confided in his old mentor.

Gandalf smiled joylessly. "Likely they would have always been, Faramir. You, not unlike your father, are a stubborn man when you want to be. However, your stubbornness is most often inflicted upon yourself in the name of responsibility. I can not speak of the Lady Éowyn, for i knew her not well enough."

"Nor did i," Faramir said quietly. He knew half of the trouble between them had been due to the fact that they did hardly know one another. "I'd been beginning plans for the home in Emyn Arnen. I felt so sure that once we were there, away from the strict conventionalism of Minas Tirith, we would both flourish in ourselves and each other. I thought we would have been so happy there. She wanted to keep a garden there for our children and i told her i would teach her to speak Sindarin so that she could converse with Legolas's Mirkwood kin. She wanted Findiel to learn to weave and such things instead of growing up in such fear of dying upon a sword that she learned to fight back. She wanted a peaceful life, Mithrandir. I would have given her that," Faramir said sadly.

Gandalf sighed, he himself wondering just why his gentle-hearted pupil always faced such trials. The wizard also knew that just relocating out of the White City would not magically cure the troubled waters of their relationship. It would most certainly help, at least for a while, but without changes in both of them, they likely would never have gotten along closely. Both the Wizard and the Steward wondered if he would ever find the sort of love the young man had read of so often in the tales of Beren and Luthien and Eärendil and Elwing, and what he himself witnessed with his father and Arwen.

---

_linda: Thank you. I think they all have their work cut out for them. No one is having much of an easy time of it._

_Elenhin: I always try to keep my updates fast... call it Elf-maic :) Eomer does have a right to fear or be suspicious of anything good that comes his way. Let's just hope his suspicion doesn't end up costing him dearly. As for Faramir... it's just a good thing that old Gandalf is around now. Between Gandalf, Aragorn, and Elboron, i think Faramir will be ok. What he needs is a lot of love and support, things that had been in dangerously short supply a lot of the time in his life. Some of Faramir's reactions are a result of having been raised to not show a reaction to much of anything. He is learning to break that, which is good in a way, but he must be careful, else one of these days someone who knows how vulnerable he is right now could use that against him._


	29. Added Burden

For the rest of the march there was peace, however tenuous. Aragorn took to riding between Faramir and Éomer at all times and there was a joint effort between Aragorn and Belthil to keep to the two distracted from one another when camp was made.

There arrival at Edoras was particularly difficult. Éomer, though comforted to be home at last, was pained that everywhere he found reminders of the earlier days he shared there with his sister. For Faramir, the difficulty was in the knowledge that it was finally final and absolute. He knew that once the door of the sepulcher was shut on his wife and infant child, he would have to really face their permanent absence.

Suddenly the young Steward did not want to face that reality. He wanted to pretend that nothing was amiss, he wanted so much to shut off his feelings and be able to get through whatever burial ritual was employed in Rohan without showing his emotions. Faramir was not sure that he had the willpower to do that, though. They had arrived late in the afternoon and rites were to commence at dawn, so at least he would be granted a night to prepare, but Faramir was still terrified that he would act disgracefully.

The worst thing was that he knew better than to believe that to show grief was disgraceful or weak, he knew much better, but it was so difficult to shake that habit. The fact that the people of Rohan seemed to have no trouble expressing their anguish only drove home to him that he knew he should not hide his own. He still felt that he had not been able to work through losing Boromir because he could not allow himself to show grief in the company of his soldiers and most certainly not in front of Denethor. Far too rare were the moments he ever had to himself.

He knew that he had his father's support now, though, and while Aragorn was seldom an open book, nor was he one to disguise his feelings. Faramir was never in doubt that his father loved him, and that fact, at that point, actually did little more than to burden Faramir further. He knew that Éowyn often doubted his love for her, and moreover that it was because he often felt compelled to shroud his feelings, especially in the company of others and in formal situations.

Though Faramir felt he had been making a lot of progress in himself, especially after Gandalf's arrival, he now felt as low as ever as he began to think of all the mistakes he had made in the past and of all his current flaws, as he saw them. He desperately wanted to be home again, alone and in the comfort of his own bed, instead of in Éomer's barn... rather, Golden Hall... as it were.

On reflection, Faramir was very glad indeed that he had not insisted that his wife and child be interred in the Hallows. He did not think he could bear to go there again and relive not only Éowyn and Findiel's deaths but his mother's as well. What was still unknown to Faramir was that, had he gone there, it was highly likely that thitherto fever-masked memories of Denethor's suicide and attempted taking of Faramir's life would have come to the fore of his mind and overwhelmed him. These things were slowly being revealed to him through dreams all in their own time, to have rushed it might have had severe consequences for the young man.

It was, in fact, that very night that another revealing dream came to Faramir. It was not what Faramir needed... or so it seemed.

At first the dream had been like to the one he had en route to Pelargir. There was the heat and the powerful roar of the fire that raged around him. Faramir could feel the very sweat beading on his brow. It was worse this time, though; there was slightly more clarity to his senses in this dream.

He felt utterly trapped, he was too weak to get away. It was not just fire surrounding him, but fire in him that trapped him as a fever tore through him. There were shouts, he couldn't understand what was being said, but he knew the voices. He heard Gandalf and Denethor and tried hard to discern what was going on. The more he tried to understand, though, the hotter the fire got around him. He could see nothing, he couldn't open his eyes for he lacked the strength. Suddenly he felt himself turning and falling. He tried to cry out, through his fever-hazed mind it felt like he was falling forever and the terror of death struck him. He fought to just open his eyes, if he was to die, he at least wanted to know how.

It was just then that he became aware of someone's hands on his shoulders and his name being called. Faramir woke with a start to find his father with him, mopping the sweat from his face with a cool cloth. No words needed to be said, Aragorn understood that dreams of revelation had visited his son again. He hoped that Faramir would not dwell on his dreams too much this day, but no matter what support he was in need of, Aragorn was determined to provide it. For now, he set about helping his son get ready for the trying day ahead, as he himself was already prepared for that night had been rather sleepless for him.

It had been an hour before sunrise when Aragorn woke his son from his nightmare. Few were the occasions for which Faramir had seen his father looking so kingly. In one way it was a comfort to him, a further reminder that the past was over and the Days of the King had come at long last, a reminder that he had a real father who loved him dearly, and that together they had the power to make the world beautiful and peaceful again.

And in another way, Faramir felt again pressure to behave with the poise befitting his rank at all costs, even though he knew that that was the mode of the past. It pained Faramir to remember that Denethor had never shed a visible tear at Finduilas's funeral.

As he was finishing getting dressed, Aragorn offering to do up the laces on the sides of his tunic since it was not possible for one to tie them properly for oneself (Faramir utterly refused to wear the black robes of the Stewardship that Denethor had always worn so pompously) he realized that he had not seen his son since they arrived and nearly panicked. If Berethil had not brought him in when she did, Faramir would have turned the Golden Hall upside-down to find him without even thinking simply to ask.

Immediately, of course, Elboron buried his little hands in his father's wavy locks, but today he seemed to do so more of a need to be close to his daddy than out of any mischievous design. Faramir understood this on a basic level and held his child closer, also needing the comfort of being able to just hold onto someone - he was still struggling with himself with his control over his emotions and he was still quite shaken by the fiery nightmare. It was going to be a very difficult day and fathers would need their sons as sons would need their fathers.

---

_linda: Yes, Faramir always does blame himself. He's getting over that slowly, but still he has difficulty with his past habits._

_Elenhin: You most certainly should not feel like a fool! You pick up on a lot of subtle things built into my stories. Par example: Faramir and Eomer having the same problem only reversed. Exactly. Each is trying to re-learn behaviors that were so ingrained in their personalities. I know from experience that it can be done, but it takes time, and someone who cares enough to help you. Right now both men are volatile, but Faramir has some things to deal with that are more weighty than Eomer does. Eomer just needs to learn to control himself a little better, Faramir has to get over a lifetime of Denethor's scorn._

_Happy 2005 to everyone! May this year bring you all joy and good things._

May you have warm words on a cold evening,  
A full moon on a dark night,  
And the road downhill all the way to your door.


	30. Laid to Rest

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Faramir stepped out of Meduseld and went to stand beside his father at the fore of the procession which was to lead out of the city to the burial mounds. Aragorn had roughly explained the route that morning, all Faramir really needed to know was that, as husband and father, he should stand to the left side of the sepulcher door. Faramir could not understand the practice of burying the dead outside of the city where their graves seemed so vulnerable to desecration, but he did not argue. If these were their customs, he would not protest.

It was a chill and windy morning, as were many a morn in the Mark. Faramir pulled up his all too heavy cloak to shield Elboron, noticing that the child seemed upset and not at all himself. Faramir couldn't be sure if it was because he sensed the sadness around him, because of all the traveling, because of the weather in this northern country, or simply because his father's hair kept being whipped back out of his reach by the wind.

Faramir stood at the prepared burial chamber silently and stoically. He was beginning to think that at least with his son with him he stood a chance of retaining his dignity through this. The thought came to him that he no longer had to worry about disgracing his father, tears were no disgrace to Aragorn and as an added bonus, none knew he was his father anyway.

But Faramir thought again that he had stopped trying to honor Denethor sometime in his tenth year, from that time on it was Gondor's honor alone that he had acted for. It had been only another five years from that year that he had stopped trying to live up to Boromir's soldierly example. He considered himself a fool for trying in the first place and from then on he concentrated on learning first and foremost, as his mother had wanted for him.

Faramir was drawn back to the present situation by a man of Rohan, one whom he vaguely recognized as someone who attended Éomer. The elder man had to repeat his request before Faramir heard all of it, and when he did he overtly stared down at the man as if he were asking for his arm (Rohirrim, not being of the such direct Númenorean blood, stood several inches shorter than Men of Gondor, especially men with lineages such as the Steward's). Faramir was affronted at the man's request that he allow his child's nurse to take the infant back to the city so that their rituals might not be disturbed.

Faramir only held his son closer to him, his stare slightly frightening the other man and causing him to back off a little; so too did the fact that the King of Gondor was standing just behind his Steward and wearing a warning look that he had unknowingly picked up from his foster-father. At Aragorn's side stood Belthil and Berethil and Gandalf and Glorfindel. About them were a number of soldiers who had accompanied the funeral march from Gondor. Across from them stood Éomer, by his side Lothíriel (who had apparently forgiven her husband for his outburst on the road), and many, many people of Edoras.

Faramir nearly lost all nerve when he saw that Éowyn and Findiel were carried on a bier down from the city. Aragorn cursed himself for not preparing his son for that but it had not crossed his mind at all to think to warn him of it. Yet, Faramir held fast to his little one and took comfort in his father's hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and took several calming breaths.

The solemn men bearing them laid the dead just before the door and words were spoken in Rohirric that caused Éomer and most of the other people of Rohan to shed tears. Those with sharp eyes noticed that Aragorn, too, shed a tear. Then the adorned stretcher was lifted again and slid into the small house and Éomer wept openly, not a king at that moment, only a brother and uncle in grief.

As the door was reverently shut, Éomer glanced up, attempting the calm himself, and noticed that Faramir's eyes had remained dry. Éomer knelt before the sepulcher door and whispered Rohirric words before rising, glaring openly at his brother-in-law, and walking away. Within moments Faramir with Elboron and Aragorn were the only ones left there.

"He blames me for their deaths," Faramir said softly to his father, his eyes still fixed on the door as if by staring harder he could see beyond it.

"He blames himself, Faramir," Aragorn said sympathetically. "He simply clashes with you because the two of you are so different in nature. Éomer is just as his father was, a rash, hot blooded man. You, my son, could not be more different."

Faramir turned to meet his father's compassion-filled grey eyes and his hidden tears broke loose. He cradled his son against him and let his forehead lean on his father's shoulder as he wept his heart out in selfishness for his own lost wife and child. Faramir smiled bitterly to know that at least they were no longer trapped in a world of pain, but had gone beyond to eternal beauty. Gandalf and Glorfindel had both borne witness to the fact that death was not to be feared and that the only thing one could rightly mourn was one's own loss of companionship. Whether or not those words had been shared with Éomer was as yet unknown to Faramir.

It was more than an hour past the rising of the sun when Faramir felt able to return to Meduseld. It was good timing on his part, for when approaching the city gates, Elboron began to make plainly known his displeasure with a number of things, including not having seen his mother or sister in days, being far away from home, the weather in this strange country, being woken before the dawn (though in that case turnabout was probably fair play), not having been fed yet that day, and last, but definitely not least, the fact that he could not reach his father's hair to grasp onto because of the windy conditions. Faramir tried to settle his little one, but to no avail.

Passing the city's stables, Faramir glanced in and noticed Éomer currying Firefoot. Faramir sighed and asked his father to take his son to Berethil. "I must try to make amity with my brother-in-law," he said. "Gondor can not have this... _you_ can not have this dispute continue."

"Faramir, i appreciate that greatly, and i know that you would do all to make peace, but i do not wish you to feel that you must do this for me or for Gondor. This may not be the right time...," Aragorn said, wishing that his son did not feel so duty-bound.

"Adar," Faramir said quietly, "in the entire history of Arda, as i have studied it, there has been just one right time... March 25, 3019, 1419 in Shire Reckoning." Letting Aragorn take Elboron to his nurse, Faramir walked into the stables, hoping that he would be able to resolve his differences (or perhaps rather, similarities) with Éomer.

"Brother," Faramir called out hopefully to Éomer as the King of Rohan groomed his own horse as he often did whenever he wanted to be alone. There were few grooms kept in employ in Rohan, even for the King, as the bond between horse and rider was so strong.

Éomer turned his head only slightly and did not stop currying Firefoot's left shoulder. "I have no siblings," he said lowly.

Faramir was silent for a moment before he said genuinely but composedly, "nor have i."

Éomer said nothing for some while before setting aside the curry comb with a deep sigh. "Is there something that you want, Lord Steward?" he said impersonally.

Faramir nodded. "Your friendship as my brother-in-law, at the very least, to put away this tension between us, as much for the clarity of my own conscious as for the greater good of our respective countries."

Éomer stood staring at Faramir, yet again not speaking immediately. "Why does it come so naturally to you, this whole diplomacy thing? I thought i was beginning to understand it, but it seems that it is in fact more than inviting to dinner murderous neighbors of your friend's lands while he is away. Oh well. Live and learn, is that not correct?"

Faramir flinched inwardly, not of the biting tone to Éomer's voice, but rather of the realization that Éomer did in fact blame himself for all that had happened. "The fault is no more yours than mine, Éomer."

"Maybe not so, but the grief is more mine, obviously," Éomer said quickly.

"Even that may be so, for you knew her much longer than i. And yet believe me when i say that i would have given my life for my wife and child," Faramir said sincerely.

"You would have... i should have," Éomer muttered despondently. He knew that he should have been in the Golden Hall, conducting the ceremonies there for the celebration of his brave sister's life, not in the stable, currying his horse as an excuse to sulk and for sorry himself. But he hated seeing Faramir take this whole thing with such ease and dignity. Why did his friend's son always have to be more noble than him, at times even more noble than his own father? He stared at the man of Gondor who was eight years his senior and seemed every bit of it in all but appearance, Faramir looked both more youthful and yet more aged at the same time. "How do you endure it so easily, Faramir? Why is this so easy for you?" he asked, finally voicing what had troubled him since before they set out from Minas Tirith.

"I have listened to what others have had to say and chosen to believe them. But this has been anything but easy for me. All men suffer, Éomer, but all men hurt in different ways. We can not begin to compare our grief," Faramir said wisely.

Éomer simply looked at Faramir for a while before turning back to Firefoot. "I do not need your sympathy," he said bitterly. "I have long since learned the worth of such, or lack thereof."

"For what reason other than sympathy did your uncle take you in?" Faramir asked gently, hoping his question would engage Éomer without inciting him. He knew it was dangerous ice to tread, but he did not fear the anger of others.

It appeared his question had neither the desired nor the undesired effect as Éomer just continued brushing down his horse. Firefoot, however, was seditious and sided with Faramir. He turned his massive head and shoved Éomer's hand away with a snort. Éomer gave the beast a shove back and continued anyway. Firefoot got a little more insistent, however, and turned again, putting his face against Éomer's chest, usually an expression of affection, and gave another shove, nearly knocking his rider down.

"What has gotten into you?" Éomer demanded, throwing down the curry comb, which Firefoot neatly kicked away. The horse's response was to give another "nudge", followed by a shake of his head and a snort. "Fine!" Éomer shouted at his horse. Éomer turned with great annoyance to find Faramir still standing there at the other end of the stable. "I suppose you can do better here as well? Perhaps my horse will allow you to curry him?"

"I highly doubt that," Faramir said calmly, walking to where his own horse, Aranro, was stabled, mostly to avoid just standing there. "Honestly, i think he is just trying to tell you that he doesn't like to be used as a pretext."

Éomer tensed and narrowed his eyes.

"As much as death pains the living, there is nothing we can do about it," Faramir said, almost seeming to talk to Aranro instead of his brother-in-law as he stroked his horse's neck and scratched his forehead. "You are their king, Éomer; they look to you for strength and comfort, and though you may feel you have none to spare for yourself, let alone them, you may be surprised at how much strength and comfort your people can provide you in turn."

"It must be all very easy for you to say that. You are cut out to be a Steward. I was not meant to be King, or if i was i certainly had no adequate training," Éomer said, scarcely realizing that he was confiding his troubles in Faramir. "One day i was charging orcs, leading my éored, at camp with all the other soldiers, no different from any of them. Suddenly i am supposed to be their King? I know what people expect of a king - one who is wise, noble, dignified, regally mannered... things of that sort. I am none of those things by nature, though i have tried to be and most frequently fail. All i have ever been is a soldier. I am twenty and nine, i do not know how to lead an entire people... i know not even how to be a good husband."

At Éomer's last desperate statement Faramir chuckled most unexpectedly. "Éomer, _gwador_, i think there is not one mortal Man alive today who knows how to be a good husband. Lord Elrond may have been, but he has the ability to read one's thoughts. We mere Mortals, on the other hand, are left to the fortunes of conjecture alone. And, furthermore, i will share with you a secret: I was not cut out for the Stewardship. Nor was my brother, it would have crushed him as it did Denethor. The Stewardship, as Gondor has always known it, is not my office. My office is entirely my own. Many things that the Steward should delegate, i take care of personally. I was most certainly never a soldier, but my days in Ithilien did have their effect on me. The first thing a Ranger learns is never to trust anyone else with your task. The second thing a Ranger learns is who he may trust with his life. I do not have the ability to sit about in heavy robes of state and tell people what to do, and so i refuse. I know it is not what is expected of me, but the old ways are no longer necessary to our survival. We are here now to enact changes in Middle-earth that shall last for all time. I shall not neglect my part in that. Éomer, you are the king, you may set the mode."

"I do not wish to disappoint them or impose upon them," Éomer said wearily.

Faramir shook his head sympathetically. "You care for your people, i see it, and i see that they support you. Take councils with those who you trust, not those who have always been appointed to council because their fathers were. I have seen where that will get one. And do not assume that you were not meant to rule. Nothing is ordered without a reason. You have a great opportunity at your hand, Éomer, do not waste it with fear to act upon it. We regret more of what we had not done than what we had. Let me ask of you a question?"

Éomer nodded.

"How would Éowyn have you be on this day?" he said gently.

Bowing his head, Éomer closed his eyes. He was silent for a moment. "Not as i have," he whispered. "I should be in the hall celebrating the life my sister lived. I should be comforted that she has a venerable place in the halls of our fathers." Éomer then glanced up, his eyes no longer glaring. "And you should be with your son, not wasting your time and wisdom trying to pull me together."

"Have i wasted, or have i shared?" Faramir said.

"You have shared, and i thank you for it, my brother. I am glad someone did," Éomer said, putting an arm around Faramir's shoulder and walking with him back to the Golden Hall.

---

_Greetings of the New Year to all my readers!_

_Elenhin: Thank you and welcome home. I do aim to please. Sounds like it was a long trip. You are bang on right about Eomer - it's not quite martyrdom, but he thinks his pain and his losses can not be understood. He is well aware that others have suffered losses, but for some reason he thinks that they were not hurt as deeply by them. Denethor had that same problem, among a host of others. I, too, have known that sort of person. I once confided something very difficult to me in an ex-friend, and was disappointed but not truly surprised when my pain was met with indifference. As Eomer said, live and learn._

_linda: It is very hard, especially for Faramir, to unlearn, but he is coming along. As we have seen, he is stronger than he knows. _

_I have surprised my by keeping regular updates even through the holidays. Now that the festivities have died down to sore legs from high heels on NY Eve, a jump in the lake with the Polar Bears on NY Day, and a long walk and talk with a new four-legged, 23-hands friend, i think i am set to reign in this story and begin the end. However, every time i say that i end up doubling the story in length. I will tell you, however, that i am excited to see what Elboron is like when he can talk and stuff.... I'm not promising a trilogy out of this, but perhaps another spin-off story or an epilogue._


	31. A Gift

Meduseld had been set up for the reflective celebration that was a custom after Rohirric funerals, and Faramir, returning from his chat with Éomer went to be seated with his father and friends who had accompanied them on the march.

Aragorn clasped his son's shoulder in a show of support and took a close look at him. He then briefly turned his attention to his friend seated upon the throne of Rohan. "Well, no visible swelling or bruises on either of you. Am i to guess it went well, Faramir?" Aragorn asked.

Faramir nodded, taking Elboron from Berethil's arms. "I think it did. I managed to get through to him i think."

"You let him figure it out for himself, then?" Gandalf said.

Faramir grinned. "Aye, i rather did at that, Mithrandir. Though i know he has a long way to go yet, he will be all right. I never before realized how he doubts himself. He seems so much like Boromir sometimes, i simply thought he had the same manner of self-confidence."

"Your brother had his share of chinks in his armor, not one of us here is perfect, Faramir," Gandalf said.

"I have to admit, i rather miss him more than anything today," Faramir said longingly. "My brother was the best friend i ever had."

"Every time i regret my decision to leave you i remind myself of that," Aragorn whispered to his son. "I know what the two of you meant to each other, and knowing that, i never would have split you up."

Faramir smiled sadly. "I am glad you did not, for it was worth it to me just to know him. Yet, i am also so thankful that you have come back."

The young man who was Boromir's very image reached across the table to his uncle and handed him a book. "I found this in the apartments i was allotted in the Citadel. I think it might have belonged to my father, judging by the ciphers there," Belthil said pointing to a white tree symbol above the Elven runes of the Steward's mark, Boromir's personal emblem as the heir, on the lower right corner of the front cover. "I wanted to read it, but i thought perhaps you should first."

Faramir just looked at the leather-bound book for a moment, a hundred thousand memories of Boromir washing over him. "Yes... this was his. You must be quartered in his old apartments. I have not even been there since... before the War. Thank you ever so much, Belthil," Faramir said. It was obvious that the leather thongs that were knotted to keep the book closed from prying eyes had not been tied and untied since before Boromir left for Rivendell. It seemed so very long ago, going on two years now, and Faramir's eyes had misted over. "Excuse me, please," Faramir said, rising from the table and leaving to find the one place he felt comfortable in the entire country of Rohan... the relatively miniscule library.

For a while Faramir just sat quietly in the library as a little light filtered in from the window facing east. It was not even past noon yet and the celebration in the Golden Hall would likely continue until evening. Briefly Faramir hoped he would not be missed or expected to return quickly, but looking at the book of his brother's again, he did not care who expected him to be where when. There were some things that were more important. This was one.

It was not as though Faramir did not have any reminders of his brother about, the very cloak he had worn at the burial that morning had been Boromir's, but there were very few things he had that were truly his brother's so personally as his own journal. Faramir knew enough to know that this book that Belthil just happened to have on hand, and just when he had been thinking of his beloved brother at a difficult time, was one of those small gifts that had so much value.

It was a while before Faramir untied the knot, he was content for a while to just feel the texture of the leather, worn and smoothed over the years from Boromir's touch. He took care in unlacing the knot for fear that the thong might have gone brittle in the last few years of neglect.

Gently opening to the first page, Faramir smiled to see his brother's rather untidy handwriting. He had forgotten that idiosyncrasy of Boromir's and hoped he would be able to make sense of what had been written. To Faramir, even if he could not decipher all the words, this thing was precious to him all the same.

---

_I know this chapter is short... and late. The next chapter will make up for it though. Coming up next is going to be the contents of Boromir's journal... some of it anyway._

_linda: Faramir was indeed wise in his chat with his bro-in-law. Once he saw how Eomer was feeling, much as he has often felt, he understood and was able to help. There was some kind of jealousy between them, may still be some, but Faramir just happens to be able to let go of that sort of thing._

_AM: I have no choice, i have to keep writing. Otherwise all these ideas back up inside me and i go crazy. Writing these stories is my fix, works out well, huh?_

_liz: I know there are typos. I know i should review more carefully. I often write at night (when i should be getting some sleep - like right now) and i try to post ASAP. As a secretary, i never look over my own work, but always have at least one other person edit, three people if it is something to be published. But since this is just fanfiction, and even with the new editing procedures on the site, i still have yet to allot precious writing time to going back and editing all the annoying littleflaws that i usually pick up when reading over the next day._

_Voldie: And here i thought you didn't like the story anymore... :( Glad you are back to reviewing though, if anyone understands busy it is i. I am sorry for not including translations like i should. Sometimes it is sheer laziness on my part. Sometimes i just forget, Sindarin has gotten to be so second nature to me that sometimes i don't notice something that needs a translation at the end. I will try to mind that. Let me know if there are any in particular you wanted from past chapters. And thanks for keeping me paying attention to those details. And yes, I think there is going to have to be a spin-off featuring little Elboron. Perhaps a few other spin-offs as well. I am really getting into writing Boromir's journal, for instance._

_Elenhin: I guess the end isn't too far off, as i see it. But this story has grown into something bigger. As i mentioned directly above to Voldie, there will be spin-offs. There are a few things looming in the future i am interested in exploring. Some things that will have to wait for Eldarion to come along, some i might start exploring this week even._

_Have my author notes run longer than the story? How i do try to avoid that... but when my dear readers review, i like to let them know i have paid attention. _


	32. The Captain's Log

__

December 20, 3001

The turn of a new year approaches quickly and i am glad to be called home for the celebration... though i can not help but think that other companies not lead by the heir to the Steward are not so fortunate. Still, home is home and i shall not argue father this time.

He and Faramir are still at odds... as they ever shall be i imagine. It breaks my heart that we can not be a family because of whatever resentment father harbors. Sometimes i think it can not be true, the reason he gave me years ago. And yet, even if it is, i can not comprehend it still affecting father as it does (i don't care if he is the son of the King himself, the only thing he is to me is the best friend and brother i can imagine having). Most likely it is that accursed globe that he turns to for comfort now. Father is vulnerable enough, the gods know the Stewardship is a dreadful burden for any man to bear, and though he seems to think it makes him stronger, every time he's been using it i can tell, for he looks so much more weary. How much longer can his rule last at this rate?

If only he would seek comfort in Faramir instead. Fara' is more than capable of aiding him with his office, even for a lad of his age. I wish i could gift my heir status to my little brother - if anyone should inherit the Stewardship, it is he. Faramir is perfect for the job. As for i... should the King ever decide to grace us with his royal presence after all these years, were i to be his Steward, he should likely have me assassinated before my first week was out. Faramir even has the gift of diplomacy for the job. I'd be as like to argue with the King as i would be father.

Father as well as pretended Faramir did not even exist at my welcoming dinner last night. And every time i tried to talk to my brother, father would interrupt and start another discussion with me. Faramir is too good; he suffers it all so stoically. How many times have i told him to stand up for himself, but he seems to think that would do more harm than good and just does whatever father tells him to do anyhow. Sometimes i think that if father ordered Faramir to go and personally map Mordor for him, the lad would bow and go to pack spare parchment.

Enough about father though. I could see as plain as anything how much Faramir had missed me, it looked to be even more than i had missed him (if such a thing is possible). So after father excused us from dinner i took Fara' under the arm and dragged him down to the Merry Widow for a drink away from the old mule... that's Steward Mule to me, i suppose - i may be his son, but i am also a Captain under his command. Well, i had promised a few certain lasses in the employ of said reputable establishment that i would visit as soon as i got back home anyway, and Boromir of Gondor never breaks a promise sworn!

Imma' found me almost as soon as we walked in, as she always does. Several others came and went for a while, but i had difficulty paying much attention to them. I feel rather guilty now, realizing that that also meant i didn't pay much attention to Fara'. I could see him getting bored, staring at his ale as though he expected it to strike up a conversation with him. Had he just glanced up he might have noticed that more than one of the barmaids had their eyes on him. Fara' is every bit the image of mother and she was a beautifully radiant woman.

After a while i could no longer bear with both Imma' being beside me in the suffocating crowd of the tavern, as well as my brother looking so lonely. I nudged - who was she again? Saereth, perhaps? - and slipped her a coin and a nod toward Faramir. I have to admit it was as much to get her off my arm as to get Fara' to come out of whatever ages-old tale he was pondering this time. I had to wonder if my little brother even knew what women are for, but i did not dwell on that much... i do know and once we got upstairs it was all i could do to constrain myself until Imma' locked the door behind us....

I feel like such an idiot sitting here and writing these things in a book as though i am just making out a report on my company. This feels so unnatural to me, but Faramir does this every day, loyally, and he tells me that it is a good way to come to terms with all the things that happen in my life. The gods know i need to do that - i never before realized how much pressure there would be on me, just because i am Denethor's son. If Fara' does this every day it must have some good to it. He needs this more than i do, by a long stretch.

I just wish i knew how to get father to ease up on him. If anything ever happens to him out there in that margin they call Ithilien i won't know what to do with my life. I'll never forgive myself, that is sure.

Who am i even writing this to? It feels like i am composing a letter to a friend, and i had thought that i would end up writing things down the same as i talk to some of my soldiers, or to Fara' or Imma', yet now it seems to me that there are some things written here that i wouldn't speak of aloud to another. Maybe this is why my little brother loves words so - certainly a man can not express his thoughts to a sword. Then again, when i am in battle i rarely need to express my thoughts with anything but a parry or a thrust.

Likely i will only keep this book when i am home, else wise it would bore any reader, whoever that reader may be.... It had best not ever be Fara' unless he lets me read his or am i dead and gone first. I would never hear the end of it and i HATE admitting defeat or emotion. Actually, this book will likely be terrifically boring even when i am home. When i am away all i do is take my soldiers out for an orc fight or two. When i come home all i do is try to spend time with my brother, but always father has to get to me first. It's as though he does not even want me to associate with my brother. Damn him for it.

Well, i have had enough of this. I need to engage Faramir's steel as payback for getting me to do this.

Faramir sat stunned of what he had just read from Boromir's own hand. It was not that he had ever exactly been unaware of these things in any way, but to see them in his own brother's words suddenly meant more than Faramir could have ever guessed. He remembered so clearly what it had been like when Boromir would come home, they were the best of friends, besides being devoted brothers. There was a beautiful ache in Faramir's heart at these memories and he could not put the journal down had he tried. This was almost like having Boromir back again.

Faramir leafed through, stopping randomly a few pages further on.

__

February 6, 3002

This morning i learned that my company would be departing the City in another two week's time. Two months home again has been very renewing, if not entirely restful. Being home is never all i dream it is when i am away. It seems being outside Minas Tirith's walls makes me forget the trials within.

Father has been increasingly hard on Faramir, and though it is most likely because the Grey Pilgrim has been to visit our libraries again, i still can not think that justifies some of the things i have "accidentally" overheard. I was talking with one of the new Citadel Guards, who i believe is a friend of Faramir's, i can not recollect the lad's name... it might be Beren. Well, that is inconsequential. Father was having a "discussion" with Faramir as i was leaving the Tower buttery and he was extraordinarily livid that Faramir had aided Mithrandir with some research concerning Isildur. I do not understand father, does he seriously think that aged wizard means to supplant him?

I do not know how or why Faramir stands his ground as he does. It seems as though father says things that he knows will hurt Faramir to hear, and were i my brother i would have walked away from that, but not before i told father what i thought as well. For some reason father suffers my reactions so, and i know it has caused me to be far too overconfident with him, but no one else, none of my men, seem to mind that. I guess they expect the Steward's heir to be arrogant as his father.

My sword must feel dreadfully neglected, i have only managed to engage a few spars this time home. I will miss my little brother terribly, and i beg the gods that he will manage to stay out of trouble with father, somehow, but i can not say i will not be glad to be away again. Our uncle has been having some difficulty in the south it seems. Damned Haradrim again, filthy bastards, as bad as orcs - worse really, for they too are Men, whereas Faramir tells me that orcs were bred from - of all the things - corrupted Elves! My company will put a stop to them, Dol Amroth may rest assured of that.

Strange thing... i went to the Widow this evening, i wanted to tell Imma' that i would be leaving in a couple weeks, but i was told that she was not there. I can not imagine where she would go, for she has told me that she is alone in the city. I do not know why, but i fear for her. She has not been herself the last few months and i was starting to get suspicious that someone was mistreating her. I'd break the neck of the man who dared lay an ill hand on my Imloth. Despite what Fara' thinks about my habits with tavern women (he had it out with me the day after i sent him off with... Sirdeth?), i do know how to treat a woman.

What i do not understand is her behavior. She assured me that all was well a couple of weeks ago when i first noticed her acting strangely. When i saw her a few nights ago, she told me that she was not feeling well. I wanted to take her to the healers down in the Houses, but she would not have it. There have even been a few nights that she has been so unwell as to refuse me. I still left her my coin of course, i was honestly happy enough just to talk with her for a while away from the crowd. What i feared was that her other customers might not be so understanding.

I hope i see her again before i must depart. Now this must remain an utter secret - i dare not think to tell even Fara' - but since coming home last year, i begin to wonder... I have felt strange things, strange stirrings, when i am around Imma', such that i had once thought were but figments of myths. I, Boromir of Gondor, just might have had my armor pierced by a tavern trollop. If only these were better times and Osgiliath the thriving city i have heard it once was, instead of the military stronghold it serves as now, i would be so very tempted to take Imloth to wife and make myself a home there.

I can see the look on father's face already. He'd make a gelding of me before allowing me to marry a whore. I have spent too much time at home, i am starting to want a real family of my own and that thought frightens me more than the Black Gates of Mordor. If only i could have a family as well as a captaincy. Should i ever live to see the end of the perpetual battles we wage, then i might consent to marriage. I will need an heir one day, after all, and i should be all the happier to have him with the disposition of Imma' - if it must be done, for the good of Gondor, who am i, a lowly Captain in the service of the mighty Steward, to be derelict in my duty....

May this serve as my official declaration, never to be seen by Mortal eyes as long as i still have a voice to protest with:

I, Boromir the Second, heir of Denethor, 26th Ruling Steward of Gondor, do love Imloth of Lossarnach!

True to form as ever, Boromir still had the ability to make his little brother laugh and cry at the same time. Faramir had never been so grateful as when his father found him there in the library and came to sit quietly beside his son as he trembled wept of missing his dear brother, finally having a chance to expel the long-buried tears of grief that Faramirthought sure were long since beyond recall.

---

_linda: Who can say how Eomer will react? Though i am inclined to believe that he will understand better now. This is the first chance Faramir has actually had to grieve for Boromir._

_Elenhin: I agree, Eomer could definitely inflict pain without leaving much evidence... however so too could Faramir. Actually, i would think Faramir, as a Ranger,would have that skill more than Eomer. I think Bor's journal is pretty interesting... i am wondering about the mouse army though. That could be a plot bunny waiting to spring on me._


	33. Reading

After some while Faramir decided that it might be best to set Boromir's book aside for a while and return to the Hall. Aragorn assured him that it was no matter if Faramir preferred to be alone, but Faramir only smiled and said that if Éomer yet had to face the crowd, it was the least he could do to show his solidarity. Besides, he wanted to pace himself when it came to this feast of his brother's soul outpoured.

Before returning to the Golden Hall, Faramir went to his apartment to put Boromir's book away. There he found Berethil with his son who was just waking from a nap. Faramir realized that he had not seen his little boy since that morning and now afternoon was already pressing along.

Faramir took his son into his arms and smiled as a sleepy little fist tangled itself in his hair. Together, father and son returned to their friends at the feast. Faramir hoped that at some time he would be able to talk with Belthil about some of what he had read so far. He thought, too, of the possibility that one day a curious young lad might find that very book sitting amongst so many of his father's books and read of his uncle's own words. Faramir could scarcely wait until Elboron could talk and learn to read.

---

"_Edro_," Erestor called, before suddenly remembering that he was not in his office at Imladris, but in Faramir's office at Minas Tirith's Citadel. "Enter," he corrected quickly.

A guard opened the door to allow a young lad to step in. "Master Faramir to see you, my Lord Erestor," the man in black and silver livery said.

Erestor still had trouble repressing laughter at the ridiculous formalities these Gondorians employed at every opportunity, but if anyone understood what it was to uphold the traditions of one's people, it was this Elf. Thus he nodded very seriously and dismissed the guard.

"How do you fare this morn, young Faramir?" Erestor asked, surprised to see the young messenger again. It seemed an age since he, with other friends of Aragorn and officers of Gondor, had heard this boy's testimony about the happenings in Pelargir.

"I fare quite well, thank you, my lord," the young Faramir said with a deep bow. "And yourself, my lord?"

Erestor repressed a sigh. "You may call me Erestor, please. And i fare rather well, considering, thank you." Erestor had growing rather eager to get back home and hoped that Glorfindel would return soon to Minas Tirith, that they may return to Imladris all the sooner. It had been two weeks since the funeral procession departed.

Now Erestor was beginning to wonder just what the young lad was after. He was so like Estel had been, and Erestor had a habit of rarely asking Estel questions, preferring to get him to learn how to state his requests, rather than having them slowly dragged out of him. Sure, at first it seemed intimidating, but Erestor knew it was an invaluable lesson in life, once one got to understand that one did not have to be shy, couching requests as simple conversation as children and some adults so often do.

"He who hesitates is lost," Erestor had frequently said, and he knew the full meaning of that phrase. He remembered all too clearly the day Gondolin was attacked by Morgoth's forces. There had been a great celebration in the city (Morgoth was notorious for crashing parties, especially one's attended by Noldor), and it also happened that day that Erestor had finally managed to work up the nerve to talk to Glorfindel for the first time. They never even got past introductions before the alarm was raised and the next thing Erestor knew, he was up on a mountain ledge with a hundred other Elves and Glorfindel was holding at bay a Balrog, until both Balrog and Elda missed footing and fell to their deaths.

"My lor- um...," the young Faramir started shyly, "Erestor... i was wondering if - that is, i mean - perhaps you are in need of... a - an - assistant?"

Erestor gifted the young boy a rare genuine smile, before asking what manner of assistance he might be able to provide. The boy told him immediately that he was not begging for work, but merely wanted to be helpful, if he was needed, and that he would be happy to run errands for the Steward's temporary secretary.

"I thought Estel - rather, King Elessar, i suppose he is now - gave you leave from your duties?" Erestor asked.

"Aye, he did, sir. It's just that i have been... well, i feel that i can be helpful still. I want to help, if i can, especially if i could help Steward Faramir in some way," the boy said humbly.

Erestor grinned, seeing real potential in this Mortal child. The Elf-lord nodded toward a stack of folded and sealed parchments. "I suppose i would not mind having someone to ferry those about the city, particularly someone who knows where everyone here can be found."

Young Faramir's eyes took on a worried look and his brow furrowed, carefully lifting the tall stack. "All of these, sir?" he said meekly.

"Aye," Erestor nodded. "Take your time, none of them are too urgent, as long as they are distributed before this evening. And of course you need not carry them thusly, there should be a satchel here somewhere," he said looking through the drawers of the expansive desk.

Faramir nodded, determined to carry out this task. "To whom are they to be delivered, Erestor, sir?"

"There is one for the master lampwright, several for the smithy... well, they are all addressed, you see there," Erestor said, starting to turn his attention elsewhere.

The boy was silent for a moment or two, just staring at the topmost missive, wondering if he could guess correctly. He shook his head though, he could not allow himself to perform his task through guesswork. "Master Erestor, if i am to deliver these properly, i shall need to know to whom they are to go. I shall do my best to commit them to memory" he said rather timidly, hating to interrupt the dark-haired Elf.

"They are addressed, my child, do you see?" Erestor said patiently. "Or perhaps my handwriting is a bit foreign to you? I must admit i have attempted to conform my writing to the modes i have encountered most frequently here in Gondor, though it has not been simple for me to relearn after so many centuries of keeping my pen employed in Tengwar."

Faramir sighed. "It should do me just as much good were these addressed in the language of the Elves, sir."

For a moment Erestor did not comprehend what this lad was trying to tell him, certainly he was not new to delivering messages. Then it dawned on him, as a messenger for Gondor's army the boy most likely never delivered more than a handful of messages at once; enough that he could simply remember them. "You do not read, do you, child?" Erestor said.

Young Faramir shook his head, feeling slightly ashamed, even though it would have been extraordinary if he could read, even for a child who lived in Minas Tirith. Often he had heard that his hero and namesake loved to read, and he had longed dreamed of learning for himself one day.

"Put those missives aside," Erestor said kindly, taking them and shoving them into the bag he'd found. "There is more important work to be seen to today," Erestor said, writing something on a spare sheet of parchment and beckoning young Faramir to see. "Which mode do you prefer to learn first? Common runes, Feanorean Tengwar, or Cirth?"

---

_Edro is literally "open!" as in "Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen."_

_Voldie: Best of the best? Nah... surely not. But i humbly thank you! I didn't expect Boromir to be the sort to keep a journal either, but... well, there you are. I take it by your reaction that you like it? A little of the inner Boromir, something extraordinarily rare._

_Elenhin: I can't really picture Faramir wanting anyone to suffer, except maybe Calimehtar, but that is for exploration another day. But he would certainly know how mental/emotional damage might be executed. I think we could indeed work together on the Gondor's Mouse Captain - i shall see if i have enough time in my schedule for a collaboration. _

_linda: Boromir's book seems to be exceedingly helpful for Faramir. He so needed a connection to his brother, and it will mostly likely serve to help bring him and Belthil closer together as well. There will be more of that to come later, too. Maybe, just maybe, Faramir's trials and tribulations are going to let him rest for a while. Maybe...._


	34. Days of Yore

Faramir lie alone on his bed after those in the Golden Hall had disbanded. That day had turned out to be so full of surprises. Éomer had even approached Faramir and thanked him for helping to set him to rights again. The world now was quiet and restful, even Rohan's famous horses taking their rest, but Faramir was awake and stretched out on the bed to read more of Boromir's words.

The next entry he came to was dated May 1, 3002. Faramir remembered it clearly as the day Boromir's fever had finally broken. His company had spent two months successfully aiding Dol Amroth with their Haradrim problem, but during their return march they were attacked by a small band, all of whom escaped. Boromir was only very slightly injured and thought nothing of it, but the wound became infected and by the time he got back to Minas Tirith he was delirious.

Denethor refused to allow the healers to keep him in the Houses on the sixth level, so Boromir had to be treated in his own apartments which lead to a lot of ill-timing in the heir's treatments and prolonged the fever to over a week. The healers of Minas Tirith, being a marginally conceited group as they were at any rate, had taken greatest offense at Denethor's behavior and absolutely refused that the Steward be allowed into his son's bedchamber at any time, claiming that if he wanted his heir to pull through, he would have to cooperate this time. They even went so far as to point out that if Boromir's fever happened to be catching, it would not do to risk the Steward's well-being. Denethor's great mistrust of healers and their art only served to make him fear them more.

It was more than a lucky shot that Faramir was still home and able to stay by Boromir at all times, for he had not yet been deployed with Ithilien's new Rangers. It was as yet too dangerous in that area to execute a shift of manpower, there were even rumors that the One Ring had something to do with all the increased orc activity. At any rate, Faramir would not be pried from his big brother for anything. Denethor did not seem to care about Faramir's presence even though he was not aware, as Faramir was, that Boromir's fever was only the result of an infection and would break before long with no risk of contagion to others.

Faramir remembered so clearly Boromir waking and embracing his brother as though they had not seen each other in years. "I feared you would be lost to us," Faramir had said softly. "I was so afraid of what would happen without my big brother."

"Would i ever do that to you, Fara'?" Boromir had said, reaching up to intercept a tear on Faramir's cheek.

Faramir smiled, shaking his head. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Boromir narrowed his eyes vaguely in consideration. "Hungry," he said plainly.

Faramir laughed, embracing him again. "Thank the Valar, my brother is hungry! Stay here and rest, i will bring you a feast," Faramir said, his smile then fading as a thought occurred. "I am sure that father will want to see you, too."

Boromir shook his head wearily. "Not now, Fara'. Do not tell him anything has changed. I want a moment with my little brother," he said covering Faramir's hand with his own. Faramir nodded gratefully and moved to rise, but Boromir's hand remained over his. "That book you gave me the last time i came home, will you bring me that as well? It is under my pillow... unless you already know that."

Faramir grinned. "I did not know that, but may i suggest you find a new hiding place now. I will be back directly."

Still Boromir held Faramir's hand. "Thank you, brother. I adore you," he said sincerely.

Faramir did his best to constrain his tears as he kissed his brother's cheek and whispered, "thank _you_, my brother."

Faramir looked up, coming out of his reverie, as he, through his ajar chamber door, sensed a light out in the hallway. "Lord Glorfindel?" he ventured to guess. He was correct.

"Still awake, Faramir? Do you find it as difficult as i to sleep in a barn?" the Vanya Elf said with a grin.

"I rather do, but that was not the reason for my wakefulness this night. I've just been reading more that my brother had written," Faramir said.

"Your brother was a writer?" Glorfindel asked surprised, clearly remembering the proud, young Gondorian who had the nerve (or naïveté) to argue with not only Legolas and Aragorn, but Elrond as well. He so reminded the Balrog-slayer of himself.

"In a manner of speaking. He kept a journal at my prompting, and i am so very glad that he did," Faramir said. "I think Belthil will be as well. From what i have read, my brother loved his mother. I never had any inclination of that before now, and Boromir and i shared everything. My guess is that he thought it cowardly to fall in love."

"Nothing could be further from the truth," Glorfindel said at once. "The cowardly are incapable of expressing love."

Faramir nodded solemnly. "I have learned that."

"You have learned much," Glorfindel grinned. "I will leave you to your peace. Should anyone need me, i will likely be outdoors."

Faramir nodded and turned back to the book to read more.

May 6, 3002

I feel i have finally gotten back to top figure again after that incredibly irksome bout of fever. I am grateful as never before to have had Fara' with me, i do not know if i could have fought that alone. I would mention now that the healers refused to allow father to see me before i woke from my feverish state, and i do not know if that relieves me or upsets me, i just know that i was glad that Faramir was there when i awoke.

I wish we could have returned here sooner, though i was pleased to see my uncle Imrahil and cousin Lothíriel again (she shall one day make some man a proud husband, to be sure). It was two months that we ended up spending in the south. I wonder for how long i shall be home this time.

In truth, i scarcely want to stay. I am ready for the next battle to be waged on Gondor's behalf, yet i fear that the battles on my own home front shall grow more pressing. I do not fear on attack on Minas Tirith, for Osgiliath is a reliable fort. I fear more that it is that within the city that i must be mindful of. Even in just the last two months, it seems that father has grown more fey. It concerns me greatly that it may not be long until i have to consider laying down my sword for this pen to take on some kind of clerical rank. At a mere quarter of a century in age, that thought repulses me entirely, even if i have seemed to develop an odd ache in my shoulder from time to time.

Then, the news i dread allowing myself to explore:

I was to the Widow again this afternoon.... I asked after Imma' since i had not even a single chance to get back their before leaving for Dol Amroth. No one has seen her since February. I rather interrogated a few of the other women there, i may have slightly injured the owner of the establishment, but no one knew anything at all. Somehow, someway i need to find out what happened to her. These last few times home, her and Fara' are the only reasons i look forward to my return.

Moreover, i do not understand why she did not leave word for me. That is what frightens me. Could someone have coerced her to go? For some while i have feared that perhaps father has known of my attentions to her (it has grown much more difficult to keep anything from him). But surely no one would have said anything to him, it is only to be expected of a man of my position and age to frequent taverns and the activities that they provide. I even suspected Faramir briefly, i know he disapproves of such behavior, but he would never go anywhere near father with such information. Likely father would have him flogged a liar.

My concerns seem to grow with every moment that i sit here and write this. Is it possible that her illness caused her to leave the city for some reason? If it interfered with her career too much, she may have been turned out... but that can not be, for in that case someone would surely know what had occurred. What would make her leave Minas Tirith? Why would she leave me? Perhaps i am the reason. Perhaps she feared that we had grown to care about each other too much, why else would she not leave word for me? But i do care about her, i would have brought her here to the Citadel, damn whatever father would say. I fear i really have grown to love her... but now, what am i to do? I can hardly ride all over Gondor looking for her - though i would do it, if i only had any, just the smallest clue. Where have you gone, Imloth?

Why do i have the feeling that one by one all those i love and depend on are falling? Why do i feel that Gondor herself is falling? How can i possibly keep pace with this task i am charged with? I fear i am losing hope....

---

linda: Yes, both Faramir's are doing alright, for a switch. The Rivendell trip - all in good time.

Elenhin: The young Faramir/older Faramir thing is what i was going for. They are very similar personalities. Imagine if our Faramir who we know and love had an Elf-lord for a tutor! As for the Mouse Army idea - the more the merrier! I shall see what i can come up with, and i'll be interesting in seeing what you both come up with. I have some ideas brewing, probably a one-shot as well. Perhaps when/if this story is ever done, or if i find myself needing to write something else to clear my mind.

Redone: You honor me, mellon. The thing about Chaos Theory was that, especially in Faramir's case, things were shaky according to the plot line. It is possible that i didn't introduce the "supernatural" influence soon enough, thus throwing it off a little when it was revealed. I might have labeled it angst/supernatural, but this is Middle-earth... in my opinion the supernatural bit would be redundant. Anyway, this story really does flesh out the personalities though. Everyone has something of their own to deal with, it is a matter of growth.


	35. Returning

Closing the book and checking up on Elboron who was still sleeping peacefully (Valar be praised!), Faramir snuffed out the candle at his bedside and lay down to try to sleep, pondering just how much weight his brother bore and for how long. Faramir had known that Boromir was feeling strained by the time Osgiliath was attacked just before Boromir was sent to Imladris, but Faramir was not aware that it had been building for years and for so many reasons.

That night Aragorn had not gotten much sleep either and was beginning to wonder if he could ever get a decent night's rest in Rohan. Instead of sleep, Aragorn had found a conversation with Glorfindel under the stars.

"Have you seen Gandalf?" Glorfindel enquired without turning to look at the former Ranger.

"Now that you mention it, i have not. Not since this morning," Aragorn replied, drawing on his pipe tiredly. He glanced over at Glorfindel apologetically and started to put out his pipe again, but the golden-haired Elf stayed his hand.

"I am not Elrond, it does not bother me that much. I've dealt with worse," Glorfindel said with a slight grin.

"_Hannon le_," Aragorn said with a slight, subconscious dip of the head.

Glorfindel sighed. "The Hunter is leaving," he noted, looking skyward.

"I can not say that i shall miss him. Yet by autumn i shall be glad of his return... as it is every year," Aragorn said, allowing himself a moment of levity by blowing a smoke ring.

Glorfindel laughed suddenly. "You speak as though you grow _weary_, you child!"

"My weariness can not be cured by getting on a ship," Aragorn said with just a tinge of bite to his tone.

"You will come to Imladris with us. I daresay that will help you as it always has," Glorfindel said intently.

"When do you plan on going?" Aragorn asked.

"In a couple of months, hopefully. That should give you time to get everything settled before we go and enough time to be back before you are officially a father." Glorfindel then was silent for a few moments before speaking again, more mutedly. "Erestor wants to go home."

"And you do not?" Aragorn said curiously. Glorfindel had never exactly displayed any interest in Minas Tirith other than the fact that that was where Erestor was and until the dark one was ready to leave, Glorfindel would be there as well. The change over the last year between those two was staggering, even by Mortal time standards.

"No, Estel, i mean _home..._ Eldamar. He thinks that when Elrond goes, he, too, shall lay down his quill and leave the care of Imladris to another." There was no small amount of sadness in Glorfindel's voice.

"You are not ready for that?" As ever, Aragorn preferred to ask the questions.

"I only just got back! There is so much life left in me... that is the trouble of being reawakened. I still feel like an Elfling at times, and you can not believe how maddening that is... to be the great and glorious Glorfindel, Balrog-slayer, and be expected to be high and noble and dignified, when all you want to do is go charging off after the next adventure."

"I can not believe it, oh?" Aragorn said meaningfully. "Gandalf will be going with Elrond, and he was reincarnated just over a year ago," he pointed out.

"Istari are inadmissible as evidence in any argument. You know that, Estel," Glor' grinned.

"And you shall be pained to be parted from Erestor... after all this time," Aragorn said with just a slight barb in reference to all the centuries the two Elves had spent at one another's throats.

Glorfindel just nodded sheepishly.

Aragorn yawned and slapped the Elf's back encouragingly. "Well, look on the bright side... at least you have forever. I, myself, need some rest. I think we should look to the return trip upon the sunrise after next."

---

"Your Majesty," panted a guardsman of the Citadel, going swiftly to one knee when he saw Arwen emerge from behind a blossoming lilac hedge.

"What is the trouble, Rathling?" Arwen asked calmly. She always made it a point to call everyone she came in contact with by name. She wanted them to know how much she appreciated their support of her and Aragorn.

"The Rangers of Ithilien have returned from Pelargir, my Lady. They bring with them a prisoner," Rathling said. "What shall i have done, my Lady? Should he be shown to the dungeon until King Elessar and Steward Faramir return?"

Arwen looked to be in thought, but then Rathling considered that all Elves always look to be in thought. "They may not yet return for another two weeks or more," she said. "I shall parley with him."

"My Lady, you should not, not in your condition. The prisoner could be dangerous," Rathling said in concern. "Perhaps i shall fetch Lord Erestor?"

Arwen nodded, wearing a little graceful smile. "Yes, you may also inform him... however, i shall still treat with the prisoner. I only intend to talk with him, and surely if the man is a threat he will be restrained already." Arwen knew a lot about diplomacy, almost as much as Erestor, and she knew together they could likely find an agreeable resolution to whatever trouble this prisoner had caused. Arwen also knew how extraordinarily careful most Rangers who had been stationed at Ithilien could be, and she knew that it was rather possible that the prisoner in question was no more than a traveler. It had happened before.

And yet she also knew well enough to make sure that Erestor was with her during any interrogations. For all his quiet, bookish appearance, Erestor was deadly swift with a weapon no one would have known he carried in his robes. He preferred to never get into any manner of physical altercation, but when need arose, he was an extraordinarily capable Elf. Arwen was glad indeed that her friend had stayed to help her.

Arwen waited for Erestor to come to the garden, then they both went to Tower Hall. Two Rangers stood before the dais holding a man securely between them. Neither bowed to Arwen, simply because it would have put them at a momentary weakness and it was not expected of them in such circumstances.

The prisoner looked like he would have spat at the two Elves, had there not been a rope still tied round his neck. Arwen's gentleness was difficult for even the stalwart prisoner to resist when she asked his name.

He choose to shade his response as a brag rather than submission. "I am Calimehtar of Harad. The one who devised the poison that killed your husband's Steward's wife."

---

_My apologies for the length of time this took me to update (five whole days!). I've been tired/lazy all week. Really, since Christmas._

_Elenhin: Eomer would definitely not be pleased with the barn comment, especially after Saruman's similar description. However, considering that it came from Glorfindel... well, i don't think even Eomer is dumb enough to try to take him on. I think the younger Faramir has a good future ahead of him._

_More to come...._


	36. Trammels of Life

Arwen stood calmly looking into the prisoner's eyes for a couple of moments, what she saw there was hate and a veneer of pride over desperation. The Elven Queen was moved to much pity, but she knew that such a hateful man as Calimehtar would never accept that. She turned to Erestor who remained by her side and had not taken his eyes from Calimehtar.

"Could you have a message taken to Edoras immediately, Erestor?" she whispered in their own tongue.

"I shall the moment we are done here," Erestor answered just as quietly.

Arwen nodded, and sighing she turned back to the two Rangers who securely held Calimehtar. "Please take him to the dungeons," she said resignedly. She had seen that area of Minas Tirith; it was the kind of place an Elf would never willingly step foot. "You may report to Erestor after you have done so," she said, intending to go to the kitchens when they left to have a proper meal sent to the company from Ithilien.

Erestor did not wait for their report but immediately drew up a message to be taken to the King at once. He kept it short and to the point, as was everything Erestor did, but he also wrote the message in a mode of Tengwar that few now knew. It was a mode he had taught Estel years ago, and ever since they had recognized one another's correspondence by its use. The chances of it being understood by anyone who might intercept such a message were extraordinarily low and, for the most part, any who could understand it would be willing to aid in its delivery to the proper person.

Erestor was hastening to the messenger's quarters on the sixth level of the city when he happened to run into Legolas just finishing a little greening of the White City. It has become the Wood Elf's favorite pastime, especially since Gimli had been spending most of his time supervising the rebuilding at Osgiliath. The work in Minas Tirith was largely underway and most of that work no longer needed direction.

Weeks had gone by since the trip to Pelargir, and even with helping to renew Gondor's war-torn capital, Legolas was ready for another journey and so volunteered to take Erestor's message. The two Elves went back to the Citadel where Legolas retrieved minimal travel gear and was half-way across the Pelennor before Erestor had time to blink.

"I remember being that young... a mere 1000 years old," Erestor shook his head with a sigh, and then turned back to Faramir's desk.

"1000 and 20," Arwen said gently from the doorway.

Erestor turned. "You see, that is exactly what i mean... and you, only just 800. Your brothers... 850. All of you children, with all of your energy and enthusiasm," the advisor said.

Arwen smiled. "You sound much as does ada... you rather sound jealous, really."

Erestor shook his head and spoke seriously. "It is not jealousy, _pen-neth_. I only wish i could be as youthful still. Your father grows weary, and i am a good many millennia older than he."

"It eases my heart to know that _adar_ will have you by his side when he sails," Arwen said, though Erestor had no difficulty seeing that she just felt she needed to tell herself that.

"Aye, _pen-neth_, it eases my heart as well," Erestor said gently. The advisor was thinking that though he knew he had already stayed in Middle-earth overlong, it would be so extremely difficult to leave if he could not somehow convince Glorfindel to come too. Erestor sincerely hoped that Legolas might find Aragorn et al already en route back home, his bed was starting to seem so empty again.

---

If Aragorn had forced himself to accept sleeping in his pavilion during the funeral march, he was practically chaining himself to his "bed" now. The first few nights he had done so only because he was too tired to complain. By the time they had reached Firien, Aragorn's excuse had changed into wanting to stay near his son and grandson, though Faramir could plainly see that his father had only told him that because he didn't want to admit how much he hated sleeping outdoors in the rain. In truth, though, Aragorn knew he had to break himself of his habit of backing away from symbols of his rank as well as not allowing others to help him.

It rained for what seemed like four solid days from Firien on, slowing their progress. Traveling in such sodden conditions was more than difficult, though the accompanying soldiers did not voice complaint and neither did Glorfindel or Belthil, who had come to be rather good friends. Gandalf, who had turned up the morning they departed Edoras, was none too happy about the rain, though he suffered through it. Aragorn and Faramir were all together much too used to it. Though some considered the Rangers at Ithilien to be much more privileged than those from the North, they both knew that a Ranger's life could be called many things, but never privileged. The ones who were privileged in all of this were the Steward's son and his nurse, who rode all the way in a comfortable, dry coach.

They had just gotten passed the Erelas beacon and it had already been a week. Aragorn and Faramir were frustrated, to say the least, with their pace and the weather. They were both used to the ride between the two capitals taking only a week and being a much lighter journey.

It was the eighth day out, the spring rains had finally given way to a temperate and comfortable afternoon. Faramir, Belthil, and Glorfindel were riding slightly ahead and talking between them while Aragorn and Gandalf held back discussing all manner of issues concerning Middle-earth's future.

Faramir and his nephew noticed that Glorfindel no longer seemed to be following their conversation. The Vanya's head was cocked and his eyes narrowed. Without warning, Glorfindel suddenly spurred Asfaloth ahead into a gallop. Everyone else in the company stopped immediately, most drawing their weapons for fear of an attack, but no one seemed able to figure out what the Elf-lord was playing at... surely he would have warned them if something was amiss?

---

_pen-neth little one_

_adar father_

_(See, sometimes i do remember to add translations!)_

_Elenhin: I agree, though Fara' would likely never employ torture, i can't help but think that it wouldn't cross his mind. We shall see. Of course i would not let Calimehtar get away with it. Now you are tempting me though, i want to see a fight between Eomer and Glorfindel. I think that would do away withthe King of Rohan's hasty temper quickly enough :) I guess i am getting back into my routine now. It used to be that i would write in the evenings before going to bed (usually way too late at night), and then review and maybe add a bit the next in the morning before work. Now i've just been sleeping in till about ten after eight. Good thing i am only a five minute walk from work! Faramir the younger is every bit as bright as Fara' the elder. He definitely has a good future ahead of him._

_linda: Oh, Arwen is most definitely protected. I may elaborate on that next chapter... or i might not. I don't want to unravel too many other threads right now, things are starting to wind down._

_Now, i know i'm probably scaring some of my readers by saying that this one is winding down, but... i already have some other ideas spinning, including but not limited to: Turning this Chaos series into a trilogy, prospectively titled 'Return of Chaos', that would be set a number of years forward; some little one-shots including more stuff about Faramir the younger, about Elboron growing up, etc.;one review got me thinking about a "what-if" spin-off of Chaos Theory that would examine Faramir's life if Aragorn had raised him; and of course, 'Boromir, Captain-General of the Mouse Army of Minas Tirith.' So much to write, so little time.... If anyone has any other plot-bunnies, etc they would like to see me write, do not hesitate to let me know. _

_To all this i add one final, important note:_

GO STEELERS!


	37. A Knife in the Stable

"_Thranduilion_!" Glorfindel called, quickly closing the gap between them. As they met Asfaloth turned sharply, instinctively heading back toward the traveling party. The two fair Elves slowed their riding to an easier pace.

"_Mae govannen, hír _Glorfindel!" Legolas called back, slowing and riding up alongside Glorfindel and Asfaloth. "I have an important message from...," there was suddenly a mischievous glint in the Wood-Elf's sparkling eyes, "your lover," Legolas said in a whisper with a leering grin.

Glorfindel attempted to look annoyed, but failed. Even he had to admit that he was rather proud of the fact that Legolas had pointed out. "Well? What is it?" Glorfindel said, now actually being somewhat annoyed - or was it more concern?

"It is for you to ask Aragorn," Legolas said self-righteously, riding passed the Balrog-slayer and knowing he could get away with it only because of his association with the Ring quest.

As Aragorn saw his best friend riding into view his heart stopped momentarily. What had happened that was so urgent that Legolas was sent out? Aragorn thought of the man from Harad who was still unaccounted for and his own wife and unborn child. The King forced those thoughts out of his mind though. He had never been one to jump to conclusions, especially negative ones, and he refused to start, he told himself. Still, he could not bear to sit there atop Roheryn and wait, instead he broke from the crowd and rode toward his friend. He did not even wait for a greeting from Legolas, asking him immediately, "is she all right?" He had to know that first, anything else he could deal with.

Legolas grinned at Aragorn's panic. Ever had he been so impassive and calm, one could have mistaken him for an Elf... had he been but a bit cleaner; but now it seemed that kingship had taken its toll and softened his friend. "Everyone is quite well," Legolas assured him. "You should not fear unnecessarily, it ages you. You are already beginning to look about 6000 or so, even if you look young to one of your kind. I bring you good news," Legolas said, holding forth the message.

Aragorn scanned the note and passed it to Gandalf who had appeared at his side without his realizing it. Faramir he heard riding up to him and turned to his son. "Your Rangers have apprehended him," the King said to the Steward, and at once Faramir understood.

"In that case," Faramir said, "we need to make up for lost time. How long has it been, Legolas?"

"I rode out from the city three days ago," the Elf replied. "It was just that day that the company returned from Pelargir."

Aragorn nodded. "I agree with Faramir. We should hasten back to the city, but considering our circumstances...," he said referring to the troop of soldiers who had come along, mostly for show and to set up tents at night, as well as the coach which conveyed Elboron and his nurse.

"Not to mention the fact that some of us have been riding much too fast for too much of our extensive lives," Gandalf said rather huffily.

"He's just moody because we've been riding in a deluge for the last few days," Glorfindel nonchalantly explained to Legolas.

"Why did you not ride with the women and children, Mithrandir? Surely they would account the particularly agéd as part of their faction," Legolas said with his trademark Silvan grin.

Gandalf decided to ignore the remark and rode back to the assembly muttering about youth and their lack for healthy doses of fear.

"And i thought i was bold..." Glorfindel said. "Aragorn, you, Legolas, and Faramir should get quickly back to the city. Gandalf and i will follow as quickly as we may with the troops and the coach. Belthil should be allowed to decide for himself."

Aragorn and Legolas nodded, but Faramir dissented. "I would much rather prefer to have Belthil or Glorfindel go ahead in my stead," he said, concern in his tone. He hesitated for one moment to voice his reason, but knew that none with him would ever fault him for it. "I do not wish to away from my son so. Not just now."

"If Belthil so wishes, he may come with us," Aragorn said. "There is no need for you to come along immediately. I can handle the circumstance until you get in. Though i will wish you to sit in judgment with me on this," Aragorn said understandingly to his son.

Faramir just nodded. He knew enough about Gondorian law to know that a trial could be very complicated indeed and he wondered if Erestor had enough legendary Elven foresight to have already had a notice sent to the rulers of Harad.

---

It was another four days before Aragorn, Legolas, and Glorfindel arrived in Minas Tirith again. The moment the three rode through the gate trumpets blared in salute to the King. Aragorn did his best to ignore it, difficult as it was, for he truly hated to be have his presence announced in any fashion.

Legolas and Glorfindel only wished they could ignore it. Minas Tirith might have boasted Middle-earth's finest trumpeters, but it was not exactly music to Elven ears. Legolas decided to abscond and see how things were going out at Osgiliath, it was as good an excuse as any to get away from the trumpeting that threatened to wound his ears.

Glorfindel bore with it, though, and rode on with Aragorn as quickly as they could through the crowded and busy streets of the White City. Aragorn dismounted quickly before the tunnel up to the Citadel and left Glorfindel to see Roheryn and Asfaloth to the stables. He raced across the courtyard, hoping to see Arwen before anyone else. Despite Legolas's assurance, it was a week ago that such had been the case and he needed to see her with his own eyes before he could truly relax.

"Estel!" a dark-haired Elf called to him as he rushed into his "home."

Aragorn forced himself not to sigh. "Erestor, i must see Arwen, i shall meet with you afterward."

"_Sidh, mellon_!" Erestor said with a calming smile, such as he rarely displayed to anyone. "She is well as ever, and we need not counsel immediately. But you shall not find your Lady Queen at home. She is in the Tower Hall."

"_Hannon le_, Erestor," Aragorn said, going quickly back the other way.

Erestor himself went toward the tunnel and slipped into the back door of the stables, moving with the sort of silence that only an Elf can. The gleaming golden Elda was currying his horse and never noticed the one who was standing just behind him until a pair of strong arms wound around his waste, tossing aside the dagger he kept there on his belt.

The Golden One snickered lightly and did not resist when the left arm about him tightened, the right brushing his long golden hair back over his shoulder. There was a nibble on his earlobe which quickly turned into a bite. Glorfindel purred and was just glad that this playfulness remained at his earlobe, such a bite on his ear-point would have sent him howling in pain. But, of course, Erestor would know that.

The next sensation Glorfindel was aware of was one that chilled him. There was a very cold bit of steel resting against his throat. Glorfindel chuckled nervously. "Very well, Erestor, you've taken your revenge. I promise that i shall not sneak up on you again. Erestor... _mela_... you can put that away now, really. Erestor?"

Just then there was another bite on Glorfindel's ear, this time not on his lobe. There were two simultaneous cries of pain and the dagger at the Vanya's throat was dropped and the grip around him was released. Glorfindel turned in shock only to see Erestor indeed standing there, dropping a bloodied dagger from his grasp, but there was someone laying on the stable floor between them, a spreading redness covering his back.

Glorfindel recovered from his shock and stepped over the body to catch his lover in a tight embrace, nearly as tight as Erestor held him. "Mela...," Glorfindel whispered. "You saved my life," he said, pulling back just enough to look into Erestor's beautiful, dark eyes.

Erestor smiled at his Vanya and comfortingly kissed his aching ear-tip. "My bed has grown cold in these weeks. I did not wish it to be cold until Lord Námo decided to send you back again," he said with a blasé shrug.

Glorfindel laughed and held him tighter still. "I think we better call a guard to clean up this mess... Estel might be interested in hearing this as well."

---

_Any guesses about Glorfindel's attacker?_

_Thranduilion - Son of Thranduil_

_Mae govannen, hir - Well met, Lord_

_Sidh, mellon - Peace, friend_

_Hannon le - thank you_

_mela - love_

_linda: Travel in Middle-earth might not have been easy, but at least gasoline didn't cost $45 a barrel. I really hate driving, but i can handle horses. Even if they are big bratsthat are only nice to you because you are on the side of the fence with the clover and they aren't, and because they know that you have a nice, fresh apple just waiting._

_Elenhin: People do make the mistake of wearing too much. But not only too much, but the wrong materials as well. Jeans NEVER dry in the rain and those plastic rain ponchos that every wears are worse than getting wet, especially if the rain ends up cooling things off, then you have that wet plastic sitting on your cold skin and trapping your body's own heating, causing sweating and keeping your downright cold. Linen or leather are really your best bets in the rain. Pip's Faramir might well make an appearance in this very story. We shall see. I doubt i want to project that far into the future though. He was born in year 10, Fourth Age. More likely in the next story in this series though._

_flowerbee: You don't hate me. You love me. Everyone loves me, because i said so :-D Actually,a bunch of people probably don't love, and Faramir is probably their captain. Even though i reunited him with his dad and all... i guess i have done a lot to make the poor guy pretty miserable. He ought to be used to that though. At least i haven't set him on fire... yet._


	38. Home Again

Aragorn walked into the Tower Hall looking nothing like a king, so much so that several guards almost moved to stop him from entering. He looked to see Arwen looking as regal as he had ever seen her seated with a man who looked to be from Harad. He scarcely noticed the several guards who kept close to their belovéd queen and it was with a great amount of self-control that he kept himself from jumping to conclusions.

Arwen excused herself from her conversation with the foreign man and went to Aragorn. For a half a moment he just looked at her, melting as he always did in her presence, before taking her in his arms and holding her protectively.

"Not so tight, Estel," she whispered laughingly, laying a hand over her midsection. "Meet our guest first, please."

He nodded resignedly and put duty first, yet again, and strode over to where the other man had risen from his place.

"Estel-nín, this is Pharazôn of Harad," Arwen said.

"I am at your service, Elessar-king," Pharazôn said graciously bowing. "I can assure you that i have not lived up to my name," he added with a smile.

"Elessar of Gondor at yours," Aragorn replied with a bow of his own. "And i can assure you that i have lived up to mine, each of them." Aragorn could not help but feel a little defensive about this situation.

"Has Faramir returned with you?" Arwen asked, drawing his attention again. "I did not hear the trumpeters announce him."

"No, Faramir shall be along in a few days," Aragorn said. "Glorfindel and i came back immediately with Legolas. Belthil preferred to stay with his... kinsman, and Faramir would not leave his son."

"Elessar-king," Pharazôn said, "i beg your pardon, but if you prefer i shall depart for now and you may call upon me at your convenience."

"If there is business to be taken care of, i would prefer it is done with now," Aragorn said.

"As you wish. I received notice from your Steward's adjutant that a man from my country is in your custody and charged with conspiracy in assassination. Do the laws of your country permit me to meet with this prisoner under any terms?"

Aragorn shook his head. "I have no idea. You would have to ask Faramir. Maybe Erestor knows.... Even still, i can not see a reason that you should not meet with this man, at least with a guard."

Pharazôn nodded. "I have been informed of the circumstance and i offer my deepest regret that such a thing should have come to pass. If i see your Steward i would like to offer him my sympathies personally for i, too, lost a wife and child many years ago... and to my own traitorous countrymen who followed Sauron. I can assure you, Elessar, that the two men complicit in the murder of your Steward's wife and child in no way represent the nation of Haradrim that i rule."

"I never suspected that they did, Pharazôn. Our countries have made peace, and i would see that peace remain, despite this set-back," Aragorn said earnestly.

"There will be a trial, i would assume?" Pharazôn said.

Aragorn nodded, hoping this diplomatic session could end soon. "Naturally, but i wish to wait until my Steward has returned as i want him to sit in judgment with me."

It was just then that Glorfindel and Erestor walked into the hall. Aragorn rose and indicated Erestor, saying, "This is my s-Steward's adjutant who sent for you, Lord Pharazôn."

The Man of Harad smiled and nodded. "Aye, we have met."

Erestor nodded, but not with a smile. "Estel, we need to talk. Immediately."

"I thought you said our counsel could wait?" Aragorn said, half hoping that Erestor had something that could pull him away from this discussion, and yet dreading what crisis could possibly be on his doorstep next.

"That was then," Glorfindel said, still a little in shock of what had nearly happened to him.

Before Aragorn had time to respond, a guard came rushing into the hall, kneeling before his king and rising quickly. "My liege, i bring urgent news...."

Aragorn sighed and nodded for him to continue.

"It's the prisoner, sire... somehow he's gotten out. Two guards that i found had their... their throats slashed."

Aragorn's eyes fell closed. So far his reign had seemed like nothing but a long, miserable nightmare. "Secure everything. No one comes or goes anywhere until he is brought in again," Aragorn said wearily.

The guard bowed and moved to carry out his orders at once, but Glorfindel stopped him. "That will not be necessary, Estel," Glorfindel quietly.

"Why not?" Aragorn demanded. "That man is dangerous!"

"You do not say!" Glorfindel said sarcastically.

"He is dead, Estel," Erestor said, making things clear before tempers escalated.

"What?" Aragorn asked, rather unsure that he heard rightly.

"He attacked Glorfindel in the stables. I was just coming in when i saw him put his arms around Glor', he then put a knife at his throat, and in the age that i came from one did not stop to ask questions of that kind of action. I did the only thing i could do," Erestor said, sounding a little defensive.

Aragorn sank into a nearby chair. "Now the people shall expect a trial for that," he said, his weariness doubling.

"Ere' saved my life, a life granted me by Lord Námo himself," Glorfindel said emphatically, just in cast there was any doubt.

"My good liege Elessar," Pharazôn said politely, "might i suggest that no trial is necessary. "It was simply a matter of defense, and truly it saved you the difficulty of a trial for a man who, as i understand it, admitted to his crime to your Queen. As for me, i have no further questions," he said a smile.

Aragorn nodded. "I shall consider that. For now, though, if you will excuse me, i only just arrived and i am afraid i have several other matters to attend to," he said, bowing out gracefully, with Erestor and Glorfindel following him back to his study.

Arwen asked one of the Citadel guards to escort Pharazôn to suitable lodging on the 6th level of the city before she too went to Aragorn's study. Erestor was describing what had gone on after the Rangers had brought Calimehtar in and Aragorn had never been so glad that Erestor had decided to stay in the city with Arwen. Apparently, Elrond's chief advisor was a much keener guardian than he had ever let on. Aragorn made your mind up to leave consultations until the next day when Arwen entered his study. He decided then and there that he had been too long away from his belovéd, and they made off for the King's private quarters at once.

As soon as they had gone Erestor set about drawing up a report on the incident in the stable. Glorfindel, however, had other ideas. He decided that he too had been away from his belovéd for much too long. Taking the quill from Erestor's hand mid-word and teasing his lover's ear-point with it, Glorfindel received the reaction he had been dreaming about all the wayfrom Edorasto Minas Tirith... once Erestor had made certain that the study door was locked, of course.

---

_linda: Aragorn and Faramir won't have nearly as much difficulty with the ex-Calimehtar situation as they will with their next crisis. Here i am, in the process of winding this story down, and yet those two still can't get any peace :) I'm fairly sure that you need a paid account to post photos on the author page, right? Otherwise i would put up a photo of my favorite pony, Cherokawa (whom i dubbed Aranro, just because of his superior attitude). I would not mind going back to horses and buggies (and the city of Pittsburgh definitely wouldn't mind) if only Chero were a gelding, andstill i'm less afraid of being thrown by a brat horse than i am losing control of a car. As it is, he is the apparently the biggest brat with everyone but me. Go figure. Horses likely cost less anyway._

_Elenhin: Swimming in full plate armor? I'll have to try that sometime! Actually, you have me thinking of another plot bunny now. Why did Pippin name his son Faramir anyway, going strictly by the book in this case. Perhaps i will explore that. I am also thinking about doing something almost more in the way of an essay exploring families in Middle-earth. Other than the Gamgees, i can think of no other central family in the books that remained an actual nuclear family. All Middle-earth families were really a little on the dysfunctional side._

_Can anyone think of any families in Middle-earth as mentioned in the books that were traditional, nuclear families (mother, father, children)? The only one i have come up with is the Gamgees, but they only came along at the very end of the Trilogy._

_flowerbee: Set Faramir up with someone else? Who did you have in mind? Set him on fire? I refuse to divulge any of my surprising-authoress secrets :) You'll just have to keep reading and hope for the best._


	39. Charges

Three days after Aragorn had returned to his city did Faramir and his companions arrive. In those three days Aragorn had put out enough fires to make up a new Balrog for Glorfindel and Gandalf to fight together. He was beyond relieved when his known Steward and secret son finally arrived. He did not want to speak publicly about what had gone on in the city recently until Faramir was home, even though rumors about the men from Harad and how one of them, allegedly the prisoner, ended up dead, had spread like wildfire all over the city and likely beyond.

As it was, the rumors needed not spread out of the city to cause difficulty for the King. It was enough for certain of his counselors to hear such rumors as were being promulgated. Lord Gwaithir, who had so vehemently disagreed with his king over the decision not to seek a war with Harad, had been waiting for Aragorn to return and convene his council, and he had much to say, indeed.

The day Faramir returned Aragorn insisted that he rest, after he had explained what happened three days ago upon his return. Faramir was relieved to know that the threat of Calimehtar was no more and intended to extend his personal thanks to Erestor in some way. Faramir knew he had much to thank Erestor for and had been having trouble thinking of a way to properly express his gratitude. After all, what manner of gift could be useful to an Elf who had lived more years than Elrond?

That evening at dinner Faramir and his father reviewed some less pressing political matters before Faramir brought up the inevitable. "When do you plan to reconvene council?" Faramir asked. "Moreover, how do you plan to deal with Lord Gwaithir and what he said before we left? You should know that his father and Denethor were the dearest of friends before the former Steward stopped being so... cordial."

"Actually, i have a mind to suddenly decide to meet with them sometime after supper tomorrow," Aragorn said with a wicked grin, knowing how the counselors detested meeting late. "Tell me, Faramir, before i turned up, what did members of the _King's_ Council _do_?" Aragorn said, quite curious indeed about the lofty rank.

"Nearly the same things they do now... without the councils, that is," Faramir replied cynically.

"And the appointment is hereditary, is it not?" Aragorn continued.

"Unfortunately, it is every bit as hereditary as grey eyes and black hair," the Steward said with a grin.

"Prithee... what other titles, hereditary or otherwise, are currently available to the highest bidder?" Aragorn asked.

Faramir chuckled. It was a well known fact in Minas Tirith that whenever a Lord failed to produce an heir it was common practice for the greediest men from leagues around to gather about said Lord on his very deathbed in an attempt to buy his "birthright." It caused incredible divisions and would take up inordinate amounts of time for the highest ruling official to sort out when a legitimate family member would show up in the city, only to learn that his great uncle's title had been sold to a thrifty peddler who likely never had a peddler's license in the first place.

---

The next evening Aragorn did indeed choose to summon his council after the evening repast. He opened the meeting by distributing to each of the twenty counselors a proposal for their inspection. It had originally been his intention to simply read it to them, but Erestor convinced him that it would have more effect for them to read it for themselves and since his father's chief advisor offered to have the twenty copies by that evening, Aragorn went along with it.

It did not take all that long before one counselor looked up, shock written on his features. "Your Majesty... this document decrees that you intend to dissolve hereditary titles of all councils," said Belegorn.

"Your comprehension of common tongue is indeed superlative, lord counselor," Aragorn said evenly, with a frightening smile.

"He can not," Gwaithir muttered to his older friend, "these titles have been honored since Mardil's day."

"Tell me, Lord Gwaithir," Aragorn said icily, "is there still a _ruling_ Stewardship in Gondor?"

"What right do you have to change what has been for nearly a thousand years? My grandsires have held this position since the last time Gondor had a king!" Gwaithir argued.

Aragorn could not help but be reminded of Boromir's pompous speech in Imladris and he saw quite clearly the difference between his own son and Denethor's. He would not mention that, however, not with both Faramir and Belthil present. "Many things that once were are no more," he said calmly, trying not to allow himself to be drawn in to Gwaithir's challenge. "We live in a time of great change gentlemen. I wish to impress the fact that this decision is not entirely personal, but for the greater good and progress of Gondor. For the last thousand years," he said allowing his tone to be directed at Gwaithir momentarily, "the men who have held the title of King's Counselor have done nothing at all. Their title provided richly for them but they had done nothing to garner riches. Furthermore, the position of counselor should be appointed, not inherited. What guarantee is there that a counselor's son is as qualified as his father before him?"

"Never i have listened to such nonsense!" said Belegorn. "Next you will be proposing that the people elect their king!"

"They already have done so," Gwaithir said, "how do you suppose this man stands as he does today? Where is the proof that the people did not welcome him as King only because they felt the country needed one? The people of this city, by the end of the war, were so desperate to have someone to look up to, they would have seen an Elf crowned King of Gondor! Or perhaps it was because they learned that with Steward Denethor's death there was no longer a man of enough _quality_ to rule?"

It was only Aragorn's steady hand on Faramir's sword arm that kept the Steward from reacting dangerously. Faramir had long since learned to deal with slights to his own name, but to sit by and listen to this braggart deprecating his father was a sore trial for Faramir. At that point both men knew that this matter was going to escalate sharply.

"I did give you my word that if you so wished, Gwaithir, we would indeed discuss this doubt of yours," Aragorn said with a calm that surprised Faramir. Then again, the younger man thought that his father's own alleged doubts likely made it easier for him to accept discussion of the point at hand.

Gwaithir, too, seemed taken a bit off guard, for he had fully expected Aragorn to fight against any discussion of the topic. "And just what proof do any of us have that you really have a legitimate claim to the Crown of Eërnur?" the bold counselor said, though much more quietly than he had spoken before.

"Perhaps the fact that you are still here," Aragorn said. "The fact that you are not now residing in Minas Tirith's dungeons, or the fact that you are residing at all, for it would take nearly no effort on my part to have you locked away, or more, for treasonous behavior."

"That sounds to me as though you would simply feel guilty to use a power that is not rightly yours," Gwaithir said confidently.

"And what water does that hold? Were i a usurper, why would i feel guilty about using the powers of the king to their fullest extent, especially to keep quiet those who might oppose me?" Aragorn said. "Rather, it might be seen that only the rightful king would not wish to abuse such powers out of reverence."

"And that you offer as your proof to us?" Gwaithir pressed, feeling as though he was losing ground.

"If you wish to be shown other proof, i may do so. Tokens of the heirs of Elendil i bear, testimony of prophecies fulfilled, but i hesitate to waste everyone's time so. Surely if you do not believe me now you never will," Aragorn said.

"And that is why you wish to appoint your council of people who drink in your every word, is it not?" Gwaithir countered. "Who would sit on such a council, though? Dupable peasants... Elves perhaps? That, gentlemen, sounds just about right for this Ranger. Do you wish to see Gondor's fate steered by Elves? Those tokens mentioned had been held by the Elves for all this time. What about the Steward's adjutant, and, gods give us mercy, his lover. Better yet, what of the alleged Prince of Mirkwood? I have heard of plans to move an entire colony of Elves to Ithilien and give them free reign! Best yet - his Majesty's own Queen. His heir shall be half-Elf. Do not think that this plot has not been in development by the Fair Folk ever since Mardil was named ruler! They sheltered the supposed heirs of Isildur and kept them from claiming the throne until the timing was right for their designs."

Aragorn's forehead was cradled by his hand, massaging his temples, as he laughed wearily. "Ai! You have found out the plot, then, Gwaithir. Yes, i am indeed the puppet-king the Elves have long foretold!" he said mockingly. "Let me guess... did Faramir's adjutant's lover seduce you? Balrog-slayers are known to talk in their sleep. Oh, but poor Erestor shall be hurt to hear this," Aragorn said to Faramir. "It could be the death of him! And all down to Lord Gwaithir's inability to resist Glorfindel's devious Elven charms."

"Just one moment!" Gwaithir cried, or rather more squeaked, in shock and humiliation. "I will not have such a rumor spread that i ever slept with a... anyone but my good wife! That is the most preposterous thing i have ever heard."

"Really? Then you have not heard a single word you yourself have said," Aragorn said flatly.

"Well, if it wasn't a scheme of the Elves that got you here, what was it?" Gwaithir said desperate to regain ground in this argument.

"Has it crossed your mind that it was fate? Or that maybe it had something to do with all that i worked for years ago with Ecthelion and Thengel of Rohan and as Chieftain of the Dúnedain?" Aragorn said, allowing just a little bitterness into his tone.

"So it was your own doing?" Gwaithir said. "Yes, you might have worked your way up, but tell me, do you think that Steward Denethor would have ever accepted the Chieftain of the Dúnedain to take the Crown of Eärnur from his keeping?"

"Denethor was a slave to his own greed who lusted after powers not rightly his," Faramir said in a dangerously low tone. "His very sanity was compromised because he used the palantír in the Tower so frequently."

"The Steward had every right to use the globe of Númenor for the protection of the realm!" Gwaithir said, wondering if he would be able to wear down Faramir any easier than Aragorn.

"Just because he was of Númenórean lineage did not give him the right to use the palantír. When one who is not strong enough attempts to control it he invariably fails and is himself vulnerable to being controlled by anyone stronger in possession of such a tool... such as Sauron," Aragorn explained wearily. "Had you spent but a little more time in the library than you did in the armory, you might have known that. But i rather think this all a digression."

"Is it?" Gwaithir sneered. "No, i would say it all comes back to the designs of the Elves. When Lord Boromir left to Imladris, never to return, i heard that it was because of a dream... and who but the Elves would have such magic as to lure Gondor's best Captain to their realm for their purpose. I have been told that Lord Boromir was killed by orc-filth as a part of this fellowship that apparently was formed by Master Elrond himself. It is all very convenient, is it not? The Steward becomes incapacitated, and his heir winds up dead, just after an extended stay in the realm of the Elf-sorceress. Naturally, Lord Denethor's second son was of much less of a mind to promote the office of Steward, aside from his affinity for Elves and Wizards, thus, no impediment. Why, one could even conclude that Aragorn and the heir's own brother might have conspired."

That was too much for Faramir to abide and even his father's influence could not have calmed him. Faramir was well beyond irate with Gwaithir when he walked over to the counselor and lifted him from his chair to stand. Faramir kept his grip on Gwaithir's collar as their glares met. "I would suggest that you hasten to give me a single reason as to why i should let you live after that comment," Faramir growled.

Unexpectedly, Gwaithir smiled. "My reason is simple, _Steward_," he whispered. "I do not know who you are, but i do know who you are _not_. You were not sired by the former Steward, and you have no claim whatsoever to your title."

Faramir longed to agree with Gwaithir, to have the truth openly known, but such was not an opinion, at least not yet. Instead Faramir schooled his reaction as well as ever. "I would that that were true," Faramir lied, sounding incredibly sincere.

"Do not toy with me," Gwaithir said unconvinced. "Who are you, or rather, who's are you? Why Denethor did not cast you into the river 36 years ago is beyond me. Ever since you have lived in your elder brother's shadow and when you learned that he was traveling back toward Gondor you could not bear it and so aided in his downfall. How else could you have brought back the Horn as your trophy, even if you did have to break it for effect?"

For a few moments Faramir was silent, before Aragorn himself took the man aside and stared straight into his eyes. "If i ever hear such accusations from you again i will not hesitate to make good on my threat to make it public knowledge that you allowed yourself to be seduced by Lord Glorfindel," Aragorn said with a feral grin.

"Why do you not threaten me with the traditional slow and painful death?" Gwaithir sneered.

"Because i am adverse to spilling blood that runs red. Think of the scandal, Gwaithir. What would your own wife say?" Aragorn whispered.

"You would be tainting that Elf's reputation in the process," Gwaithir said, clutching at straws by then.

"Glorfindel's? The Balrog-slayer of Gondolin? I scarcely think so," Aragorn laughed. "You on the other hand.... I really think it the best solution, that is if you really insist on holding on to the past and asserting that Steward Denethor was a better ruler than i. Frankly, unless you know of a way to resurrect his charred remains, it is all really a moot point by now. Gwaithir... there is so much promise to the future. I wish dearly that you would not insist on working against me and Faramir, for i do not know what i have ever done against you. I have much sympathy for you," Aragorn said honestly.

"I do not need your sympathy, and Gondor does not need your changes," Gwaithir spat, turning and leaving the council chambers.

After that Aragorn decided that there had been enough counseling for one day. He intended to summon those he had chosen as new counselors the next day, and certainly the old council had gone out with quite a bang, and it hadn't even been necessary to ask Gandalf to supply the fireworks. Ordinarily Aragorn and Faramir would have gone directly to sleep after such a trial, but this night both opted for a glass or two of Dorwinion first. Belthil joined them, though he abstained from the Dorwinion on his uncle's advice. Faramir had not forgotten the agonizing day after the first time he had tried the stuff, but even considering the consequences, all three men were in need of a drink.

---

_I can not say for sure... but Gwaithir may end up becoming real trouble. _

_linda: Poor Aragorn indeed. More to come, of course. Chero isn't mine unless i am around and have a handful of clover, really. But, the big brat knows how to make a friend for life. He even coaxed me out of my apple, the big mud-caked lummox._

_Elenhin: I would agree, better to be named for someone who survives. The vast majority of Middle-earth is named for dead people, but, of course, Hobbits see things from a different angle, as ever. You have given me so many plot bunnies :)_

_Iblis: Review when you can, i know how it is. Just glad i have a another reader. I really do recommend Ripples, it is only a slash fic technically. It is really more about Erestor's reluctance to love Glorfindel._

_flowerbee: Who me, evil? Nah.... It's a good thing you agree that Aragorn is a true king. _

_I only wonder what manner of trouble this Gwaithir might be able to stir up.... There are certain skeletons in the closests of the Citadel that, if this character ever stumbles upon... well, i will say no more._


	40. Like Father, Like Son

That night after two glasses of Dorwinion, Faramir was grateful to find his bed and was asleep before his head hit the pillow. Faramir slept one of the soundest nights he could recall and was only wakened the next day by his nephew calling him. For as sound as his sleep was, he wished dearly that he could go back to it. The daylight streaming through the windows blinded him with pain andBelthil quickly pulled the drapes closed again.

"I believe i understand why you advised me to keep away from the Elven wine, my uncle. You were dead to the world last night, and likely you wish you were still," Belthil said quietly with a smile.

Faramir only moaned lowly as a response, keeping a hand firmly clasped over his eyes.

"I brought you some tea, Aragorn said it should work rather quickly. I also wanted you to know that Elboron is with Lady Arwen until you are... recovered," still keeping his voice to a whisper.

Again, just a moan from his uncle.

"I would advise drinking it before it grows cold," Belthil encouraged gently before leaving again.

Slowly, very slowly Faramir managed to get to the tea, hoping that it really would help. His father had a lot of experience and most of it from Elrond, and Faramir needed to have that experience count for something more than what the healers of Minas Tirith usually doled out for a hangover. There was so much to accomplish that day... Aragorn intended to convene the new council, they were scheduled to meet with Lord Pharazôn before he left the city, he needed to sit down with Erestor and go over all that had transpired in the past weeks. And to think that this was scheduled to be a rather easy day.

Quiet fortunately the tea did have a quick effect and before long Faramir was feeling quite himself again. Once he was ready to face the day, Faramir went first down to his father's end of the hall to see his son before starting his day. Elboron was asleep when he went in to see him, his father's wife nearby and working at embroidery. Faramir stood there for a full five minutes, just watching his son peacefully sleep.

"Thank you for watching over him, my Lady," Faramir said with a dip of his head.

Arwen smiled. "I ought to thank you, your son most certainly has your temperament. I hope he and my son shall be dear friends."

"I feel certain they shall be," Faramir said. "I hope they shall be as dear to one another as Boromir and i were. How ironic that i shall have had two half brothers nearly forty years apart," he mused. "Is my father in his study?"

"I believe you may find him in the council chambers," Arwen said gently.

"Council?" Faramir glanced out the window, only just noticing that the sun had already peaked in the sky. "Elbereth! It had no notion it was so late."

"Sidh, Faramir," Arwen said calmly. "Aragorn understands and Erestor is with him."

Faramir sighed. "I do not know what i shall do when Erestor is gone back to Imladris. I should go though, i do not even know everyone he had chosen. Gods! I hate to be late for a meeting!" he self-chastised.

Arwen rose and took Faramir's hand. "He truly does understand, Faramir. Had i not brought him a soothing tea this morning he would have slept much longer than you," she said with a smile.

"Thank you, Lady Arwen. My father is a fortunate man indeed," Faramir said, kissing her hand. He turned and gently kissed his son without waking him and then hastened to the council.

The new counselors were much more amiable and disposed to working efficiently. There were disagreements, naturally, but they seemed to be either settled easily or set aside. No one even seemed to be put out that the Steward had arrived well into the meeting. Aragorn's new Council was like a breath of fresh air after one had walked Gorgoroth. Appointed were young and old, soldiers and craftsmen, lords and commoners, representatives from far and wide. Faramir had a feeling that things were really starting to go in the right direction now.

The meeting adjourned and, for the first time in quite a while, without Erestor finishing his notes of the meeting minutes with "council closed with Aragorn storming off." Aragorn, Faramir, and Belthil took their afternoon repast together in Aragorn's apartments with Arwen. The mood of everything in the Citadel was so much lighter than it ever had been and Faramir jokingly suggested a glass of Dorwinion all around to toast Belthil, who was now a member of counsel and tabled to be sworn in as a Guard of the Citadel soon. A toast was made indeed, but with a much less heady Gondorian table wine.

After lunch Belthil stayed in Arwen's company with his little, sleeping cousin as Faramir and Aragorn went to meet with Lord Pharazôn. That meeting, however, was not quite as comfortable as the King's Council had been; not from any personal friction at all, but just as was the nature of their discussion. It could not be avoided that Faramir thought again of his loss, not that he had for a moment forgot, but he had been kept rather distracted from the pain. Though Pharazôn was of course well meaning in offering Faramir his deepest sympathies and apologies in the name of the Harad nation, which Faramir graciously accepted, it was just another reminder of all the losses he had faced. Fortunately the meeting was not an exceptionally long one, which was partly due to Aragorn's careful steering as he had not failed to notice Faramir's quietness.

The ruler of the Haradrim was due to depart Minas Tirith the next day and it was necessary that they part on good terms, and so Faramir endured the meeting, but immediately afterward he went to collect his son and retired to his chambers, asking that he not be disturbed. He needed some time to reflect, something that he was only just then daring to attempt.

Faramir found himself holding onto his son, letting him grasp his hair all he liked. After a while in his sitting room, Faramir rose and went to the other side of the house where Éowyn's chambers had been. He had not been there since her death and he had not expected the wave of pain that hit him with force. He thought of how he had last seen her, what she and their own infant daughter must have suffered. Faramir could not say that he wasn't glad both of the culprits were dead already, it saved him the trouble. It caused him to hold onto his son all the closer and beg the Valar that he might live up to his name: Elboron, the star which endures. If ever Faramir needed to have someone in his life endure it was his son. "May you live to see your father laid to rest in Rath Dinen, pen-neth," Faramir whispered tearfully to his innocent child.

Recollecting himself, Faramir, with Elboron in one arm, cautiously started into a task that he knew he would have to face at some point. He started at the ornate chest that stood at the foot of the bed, and there he stopped before going any further. Kneeling down beside the large treasure chest the first thing Faramir saw inside was his mother's cloak that he had gifted to Éowyn. Carefully, he lifted it out, setting it on the bed and sitting himself down, loving trailing his fingers over the delicately embroidered stars that ran about the hems.

"This was your naneth's," Faramir said softly to Elboron, "and my naneth's before." He did not expect any reaction from his little son.

Imagine, then, his surprise when Elboron looked up at his father from the cloak that had caught his attention and murmured "nan-neth..."

Faramir's jaw dropped and his eyes welled up once again. His son had just spoken to him!

"Like father, like son," Aragorn said softly from the doorway, walking in and taking a seat beside his son. "A fast learner, just as you are, ion-nín," he said with a smile. Faramir was still too happy to respond comprehensively. "I seem to recall that cloak," Aragorn said, shifting the topic just slightly.

Faramir took a deep breath and nodded. "Aye... it was my mother's. I gave it to Éowyn on the night that... that... well, that Elboron was conceived." He still had difficulty mentioning it without feeling like an irresponsible lad.

"What a coincidence...," Aragorn mused. "Your mother was wearing that cloak the night that you were... conceived. Mayhap that cloak should stay under wraps until this lad's wedding night?" he said as Elboron reached out to grab his grandfather's hair.

Faramir laughed. "Let me guess... this is actually an Elven fertility cloak?"

"Oh, they have no need of such things, as a matter of course," Aragorn said. "Most likely it bears some sort of blessing though. I should think that when worn by a truly fair lady in the presence of a fallible Mortal Man, only the best of things may come of it in the end," he said sincerely, putting an arm around his son.

-

_Elenhin: Hopefully this update was quick enough :) I didn't expect two this weekend, but such is the muse. Lord Gwaithir is interesting... just how interesting we shall see. He kind of reminds me of Grima. Glorfindel might in fact have something in store for this blusterer. _

_Iblis: I can't say just what Gwaithir knows yet or how. It will be forthcoming though._

_AM: Long time, no see! Glad you enjoyed the "history lesson" as such. Some of it was true... Mardil being the first ruling Steward - after that Gwaithir kind of goes off into an oblivion of paranoia._

_flowerbee: Worried about Gwaithir, are you? Why, how bad can he be? At least he hasn't set Faramir on fire... yet. (How evil am i again?) And yet... i am saying nothing. Maybe, just maybe, the dear Faramir's trials have come to halt. Perhaps i shall allow him to enjoy the rest of his days happily with his father and son as he so richly deserves. Only time will tell._


	41. In Dreams

The next two months in Minas Tirith had passed by more joyfully than most people had ever thought possible considering all the woes that seemed to emanate from the Citadel. It seemed now, though, that the long promised change had finally come.

Gondor had not only a King, but a Queen with an heir on the way, even if that fact was scarcely noticeable to the people of the kingdom, thanks in part to Arwen's seamstress. As Steward, Faramir was working efficiently and magnanimously to see to it that everyone had what they needed all around. The King's Counsel was working together for Gondor's well-being and improvement.

Individually, the occupants of the Citadel were doing just as well. Faramir's son was learning new words just as fast as he was growing, and a purely Númenórean trait it was for one so young, only just 7 months. Under Erestor's supervision, the younger Faramir was quickly becoming an apt assistant for the Steward. Belthil was excelling in his post in the Citadel Guard and was very pleased to be reunited with the messenger he had taken under his wing back in Pelargir, and all the more pleased to learn that he was training to assist his uncle in his office. The foliage planted and maintained by Legolas throughout the city was flourishing, and for the first time since the days of Eregion, Elf and Dwarf had worked side-by-side for the renewal of the city.

Everything was running smoothly. Which, of course, meant that something would have to change soon.

It was during the festival of the Mid-year, now with a added festivity as the anniversary of the King and Queen as well, that change began to hasten. Mid-year's night was a festival nearly as grand as the one from the year before, with fireworks once again courtesy of the newly returned White Wizard, who had quite characteristically made himself scarce since coming back with the funeral march two months ago.

That night, as revelers were making their winding ways home about the city in the hours before dawn, several of the wiser occupants of the Citadel had already found their beds for the night. There in the comfort of their guest chamber in the Citadel lay two Elves tangled in one another's arms, watching each other's eyes in the soft moon-like luminosity each cast.

"It has been one year exactly, mela," the dark-haired one whispered.

"I never would have imagined spending the last year here, like this," the fair one replied.

"Glor'," Erestor said softly, pulling himself closer into his lover's embrace, "let's go home. I have grown homesick."

"Ai, my little raven," Glorfindel cooed. "You are right, we do not belong here. Though i shall eternally remember this place fondly," he said, tenderly tucking a stray lock behind Erestor's pointed ear. After a passionate kiss to affirm his concurrence, Erestor nestled his head against Glor's shoulder and contentedly fell into dreams.

-

Dreams were prevalent in the Citadel that night. As Gondor's Steward saw his little one safely to sleep in his cradle, he laid down and opened his brother's book for the first time in a while. Faramir felt drawn to Boromir's thoughts and words that night, holidays seeming to have that effect on him. Boromir was always the life of any party and no celebration in Minas Tirith ever seemed quite complete without him.

Faramir was not aware that he had fallen asleep as he was reading until the sensation of intense heat closed in around him. It was so hot he was having difficulty breathing. Worse than that was the all-over weakness Faramir felt, he could not lift his head, even his eyelids were too heavy to try to see. Still the heat raged, from without and within at the same time. Valar! It was that accursed dream again. This time, though, it was clearer than ever before. Faramir felt incredibly weak, but his senses were not dulled. He heard every word exchanged:

"The houses of the dead are no places for the living...," Gandalf said.

"Since when has the Lord of Gondor been answerable to thee?" Denethor sneered back. "Or may i not command my own servants?"

"You may, but others may contest your will when it is turned to madness and evil. Where is your son?" Gandalf asked urgently.

Denethor carried on in lunacy about fire and ash but Faramir felt himself being gently lifted. He wondered if he was dying as his soaring fever invoked a reeling sensation in his head. He felt a whole new weakness spread over him as he felt his lips mouth the word "father," but it was not Denethor he called to. As the spinning ceased Faramir heard again the voice of Denethor.

"He calls for me!" Denethor cried.

"He calls, but you cannot come to him yet," Gandalf said sternly, his voice sounding very nearby now, and growing weary of this banter and knowing the urgency with which Faramir needed his true father's care. The swirling sense returned briefly to Faramir.

"He will not wake again... We should we not go to death side by side?" he heard Denethor say, and still his world would not stand still.

"Authority is not given... heathen kings... Dark Power... slaying themselves... pride... despair... murdering their kin to ease their own death." Faramir only heard Gandalf's voice in and out now and he could feel the heat rising sharply. If he had not felt incapacitated he would grabbed onto Gandalf for dear life, but all of his strength gave out and Faramir knew no more of the horror of that day in Rath Dinen, for what he knew was far more than enough.

Suddenly waking, Faramir sat up in his bed involuntarily, keeping his eyes tightly shut in fear of what he might see. He was in a cold sweat and trembling fiercely, his heart raced and he tried to catch his breath. There was a hand on his shoulder which he almost reflexively fought against until he realized that the presence of other person in the room was calming. Faramir opened his eyes to see Gandalf and of a sudden the man's tears broke loose.

"Mithrandir..." Faramir whispered tearfully. "He tried to kill me..."

-

_Selections quoted from The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Book V, Chapter VII The Pyre of Denethor._

_linda: Elboron is very sweet, just wait until he really starts talking. We may see some of that in this story, perhaps as en epilogue, or maybe in the next story as a preface._

_Iblis: What Gwaithir knows will come to light in time. Honest! Yes, Arwen is definitely a good step-mum. She understands Faramir pretty well._

_Elenhin: I can't say that the cloak necessarily induces fertility, but it is definitely imbued with some sort of Elf-magic. And, no, there is no escaping the hangover, at least not for Faramir. Aragorn is a little more used to it, but still. It must be incredibly good wine, though, because everyone keeps going back to it._

_flowerbee: Yeah, Denethor is quite annoying, even just to write. Yet, not once has Faramir slipped into the past and actually referred toDenethor as his father (not that he brings the subject up that often). I think in Fara's mind, though he would continue to give him the duty owed to one's Lord, he stopped thinking of him as his father a long time ago. And really... only Saruman? I must be losing my touch!_

_Raska: Free of trouble, care, and angst-loving fan-fic writers? Well, there is only so much i can promise. We shall see abou the trouble and care... but the evil - i mean angst-loving - writers... i have no control over what others like myself foist upon our poor Faramir. :)_


	42. Morning After

That night Gandalf had stayed by Faramir, keeping him talking mostly just to shield his mind from his nightmare. It was a lot to be revealed to the young man all at once and Faramir would need to take his time in accepting what had happened. Sometime after dawn Gandalf had gone to harvest something in the way of breakfast to bring to his young friend. Gandalf had a keen understanding of fire and had a feeling that it would be safer to bring breakfast to Faramir rather than to risk a fire blazing in the hearth of the dining hall. If there could be any mercy to the timing of Faramir's dream it was that he would have plenty of time during spring and summer with relatively few smoldering reminders.

Gandalf walked into the dining hall just as the servants were putting the finishing touches on the platters of food that adorned the king's table. The vast majority of the food would not be eaten and there more for decoration; there were, after all, only so many people who would share breakfast with the King, and here there was enough for the entire company stationed at Ithilien to feast on for months. If there was one group of artisans in Minas Tirith who would never get used to Aragorn's casual ways, it was the servers. They prided themselves entirely on their majestic dinner settings, and no matter how Aragorn insisted that one plate of fruit would be sufficient, there were always three mountainous, towering arrangements of exotic edible crops.

Imagine, then, the fuming rage that ensued when the White Wizard strolled into the dining hall before everyone else and made off with bits and pieces of the breakfast dishes set about the table.

Faramir was still feeling a little stunned when Gandalf returned and they broke fast together in Faramir's sitting room, his son breaking his fast in the next room when Berethil came for him. The Steward felt a good bit better after eating and began to think of a way to deal with the fact that Denethor had actually tried to do away with him personally when war failed to do so for him.

"Perhaps i ought to just forget it entirely, Mithrandir," Faramir said. "Leave the past alone and concentrate on the future. In fact, i really should get back to my office. The whole day yesterday was spent in revelry and i ought -"

"You ought rest is what!" Gandalf said. "You had no rest yesterday and certainly none last night."

"I've done without sleep before, and i have even managed to stay alive in battle while sleep deprived," Faramir said pointedly.

"That was out of necessity and those days are over. There is no longer any reason for you to endure such abuse," Gandalf said with finality and Faramir couldn't help but feel that he meant a little more than what he said. "When is the last time you have really rested, Faramir?"

"Well, i might not have slept last night, and nor did i sleep all that well the night before the celebration," Faramir said honestly. "But Elboron and i both slept soundly two nights ago. It is not as though i never sleep, Mithrandir."

Gandalf sighed thinking that Faramir might well not have a true understanding of what he meant. "I am not speaking of sleep, Faramir, but rest. When have you last sensed tranquility, in and about you; peace, without some little matter still suing for your attention?"

Faramir's silence and blank expression said it all to the Wizard who already knew. Now Faramir wondered, had there ever been a time in his life in which he had experienced real peace, totally? In 37 years, was there ever a single moment when he had a clear mind?

Berethil came out into the sitting room and transferred Elboron to his father's arms. She started to take the plates from the table but Gandalf stopped her, charming her with his smile and insisting that he take the dishes himself. He promised Faramir that he would be back momentarily, but the Wizard had other motivations for disappearing briefly.

-

Gandalf went back to the dining hall where others had now gathered, leaving the dishes with one of the servers, who would have given Gandalf a piece of his mind had he not been so afraid of the ancient Maia. Pouring himself a cup of tea, and again infuriating the man who had spent his entire life training to pour tea for others, Gandalf took a seat beside Erestor, who was always the first to arrive for anything.

"Have you given any more thought to your return to Imladris," Gandalf asked by way of a greeting.

"Fair morning, is it not, Mithrandir," Erestor smiled and said in that way of his that intentionally reminded someone when they had passed by cordiality. "As a matter of fact, i was just discussing that very matter last night. When i see Estel i intend to ask him when he might next be available for the trip. I know he so dearly wishes to go back with us for a short time, and Faramir as well."

Gandalf nodded and sipped his tea. "Oh, Faramir has wished to see Imladris since the first time i visited the city and planted the idea in his young mind. However, i think that his wish has grown into a need. That lad is so burdened with things he should never have had to endure."

"What troubles my s-" Aragorn, just walking in, began to ask but checked himself when he caught out of the corner of his eye a server moving quickly forward to serve his king. "My Steward," he finished after excusing his stop by making a rather overacted show of clearing his throat. "Tell me not that he had Dorwinion at the party last night? Well, i could understand, naturally, it was a celebration, and i know how persuasive Glorfindel can be with a glass of wine... don't you agree, Erestor?" Aragorn said with a raised brow.

Erestor sighed, rolling his eyes. Clearly the Queen was in one of her good moods last night. He had not seen Estel this manic since he was a boy terrorizing the once-peaceful valley of the House of Elrond. "Actually, Ar-Estel, we were just discussing taking our leave soon," Erestor said, thereby rather quickly settling the King's mood.

Gandalf, seeing that the matter was in hand, finished his tea and went to fetch another cup to take to Faramir, ignoring the glare he received from the tea-warden.

-

_My apologies for the shortness of this chapter. I just wanted to get this moving along._

_AM: Indeed, such a revelation is not easy for Faramir. It's a good thing he has a real dad and his own little boy now, elsewise it could have terrible results. Still the upcoming trip to Imladris will be beneficial._

_Elenhin: We shall see how deeply Faramir's nightmare effects him. Hopefully with Gandalf, bearer of Narya,around it should be a little easier. _

_linda: Without giving too much information, i can say that no, Faramir's dream isn't a premonition, just a revelation of what happened.Bad enough in itself._

_flowerbee: Melkor? Hey, movin' on up! What is with Gandalf, anyway? I think that is a question for the ages. Something to do with pipeweed most likely though. If Denethor is going to be playing with revolvers he is going to need instructions. "First and foremost, always remember to never pointbarrel at others. Barrel should always be pointed toward self. Second, pull back trigger. Third..."_


	43. A Long Awaited Holiday

The morning of Faramir's revealing dream was a difficult one for him. Though taking the cup of tea that Gandalf had offered made him feel a bit more relaxed, he still found that all his tension was manifesting itself in a headache. Faramir planned to shrug it off and just get back to his work, but that was not in Gandalf's plans.

Instead Gandalf offered Faramir a pouch filled with lavender to ease his tension, and before long the combination of the soothing scent and Faramir's own tiredness lead him to concede to taking "just a short nap before getting started for the day." Once comfortably in bed with his infant son asleep beside him, Faramir slept until supper.

His sleep was mercifully free of dreams that day and he was only wakened by the sound of laughter near him, his son's and father's laughter. It seemed Elboron and Aragorn were having a bit of a tug of war, with the King's beard.

"Elboron...," Faramir attempted to admonish, pulling himself up to sit, but the laughter in his father's eyes was altogether too rare to check. Elboron's attention turned to his father though, and one look at his daddy's wavy locks just begging to be tugged was all it took.

"How are you feeling?" Aragorn asked quietly of his son.

"I am well," Faramir said tentatively, not sure if Aragorn knew about the night he'd had. "What did Gandalf put in that tea?" he asked as a reflex action.

His father only laughed. "If that had been Elrond's tea you would still be asleep, and likely not wake until this time tomorrow. But that would make our departure all too hurried for you."

Faramir smiled lightly and nodded, Elboron's little fists buried in his hair. Suddenly Faramir glanced back up at his father, confusion in his eyes. "Departure? To where? When?"

"Yes. To Rivendell. At week's end," Aragorn answered.

Faramir's eyes lit up at once with awareness. "Rivendell," he repeated in a whisper, a smile playing at his lips.

"It is not too soon for you, is it?" Aragorn teased, knowing full well that sometime before he was even born wouldn't have been too soon for Faramir.

"I will have much to do before then , but i can get started now," Faramir said, getting out of bed and nearly tripping over his discarded tunic in his haste.

"Peace!" Aragorn said before his son injured himself. "Erestor tells me that he has everything in had and has in fact been working at least two months ahead on foreseeable matters such as soldier's pensions, compensations, so on. I have the schedule set. If all goes well, next week we leave here and arrive in Edoras a week later. Spend a couple of nights there and set out again refreshed. After that will be a bit of a challenge for those of us who are growing used to our soft ways here... it should be a month's ride north. If we stay two months in Imladris, we should be able to get back here at harvest."

Faramir's eyes gleamed. "Two months, father? Two entire months, are you certain? In Imladris?"

Aragorn nodded. "I only wish we could stay longer, but... i think i may need to be here when i become a father again."

"I... two months?" Faramir stammered incredulously. As usual, though, he found a way to check his enthusiasm. "Father, are you certain that we can spare that kind of time? I should be here, at least -"

Aragorn shifted Elboron back to his son's arms. "Belthil, much like your brother, has a much greater passion for Minas Tirith than he does a trip to Imladris. He has already offered to remain here with Arwen, and Arwen and Berethil will be here with Elboron, as well as his cousin."

Faramir shrugged, finding no argument other than that he would miss his son greatly. But he knew well enough that between Arwen and Berethil his child would probably be speaking fluent Sindarin and may well have his father usurped before he returned home. "You have thought of everything, father," Faramir said, sounding very grateful.

"I would think of everything, my son, if only to allow you a short time to have to think of nothing," Aragorn said sincerely, putting an arm around Faramir's shoulders and ushering him to dinner.

The next week was excruciatingly long to Faramir as he tried to while away time by checking and rechecking travel plans and arrangements. At times it felt as though the time to depart would never come. Faramir had decided to travel as he ordinarily would have in his Ranger days as Aragorn would be, especially in light of Glorfindel's advice that Imladris had more in the way of hospitality than they should require during their stay.

At long last, though, the week did come around, and everything was set for the King, the Steward, two Elves, and a Wizard to cross Middle-earth. Some were appalled that they weren't traveling with an armed escort, or at the very least pack horses bearing food and a pavilion, but Aragorn had had enough of traveling everyone else's way and was eager to see if he was still fit the real road.

Parting was likely the hardest task. Erestor's with-foal mare, Mornië, would be remaining until she was delivered, afterward it was likely that she would find her way home on her own. The Noldo Elf had not traveled anywhere without her in longer than he cared to admit and it was not easy parting from her, as he was not sure whether traveling home with his new-found lover was going to drive him as mad as the previous journey had, or not.

Aragorn assured his wife that they would return by harvest, though that would still have him home three months before Arwen was due, mostly because he did not look forward to setting out to return any later than the end of summer. He promised to bear her tidings to her father and brothers, and Aragorn could not help but wonder if the twins would not insist on coming back with them to greet their nephew when he arrived. Oh, the trouble they could put his son up to... he knew firsthand.

Faramir made his departure easier on himself by taking Belthil aside the night before and asking him to keep Boromir's book until he returned. He also made his young nephew promise that he would not mention anything within the pages to his uncle when he returned, as he himself had not yet finished the reading. For Faramir, the hardest thing was parting from his little boy. He was always very close to both his children, but since losing both Éowyn and Findiel Faramir had been inseparable from his Elboron. He knew that his son was in the best care possible, though, and so placed his trust in Arwen, Berethil, and Belthil. He knew, too, that Legolas and Gimli would be spending much time in the Citadel, and so there was nothing really for him to fear. Or, as Gimli so genteelly put it, he needed to spend some time away from his son because three would certainly be a crowd come the little lad's wedding day. Faramir did his best to ignore the comment and just thank Legolas for his willingness to assist and Gimli for the excellent progress of his city's restoration.

Finally, the riding party of Faramir, Aragorn, Erestor, Glorfindel, and Gandalf set off for a long awaited holiday.

-

_AM: Breach of protocol is almost expected when you get Gandalf involved. The staff of the Citadel is probably extraordinarily tickled about the Rivendell trip - at least their Queen knows how to deal with their formality._

_flowerbee: Faramir has been overworking himself since day one. The visit to Rivendell, i should imagine, can't help but do him good... it is Rivendell, after all. But we shall have to see what he might have to go through to get that healing. Moreover, we shall have to see what happens when they get back home, whether or not Faramir's self-imposed exhaustive work rate continues._

_linda: At long, long last. Although... they are only just setting out. I shouldn't assumejust because i plan to get them safely to Imladris and back again that my muse will permit such... luxury. Then again... perhaps all will in fact be well. Even i can not say._

_Elenhin: Last chapter, though short, was indeed amusing. I just could not resist mentioning a tea-ward. I almost allowed him to advise Gandalf on what kind of tea to take to Faramir, but for someone who spent his entire life pouring tea, he's probably a lot like the healers down in the houses who will talk nineteen to the dozen about the benefit of this thing or that until you consider deafness an option... then tell you that they don't have any. I have to wonder though, if anyone did try to stop Gandalf the poor fool would likely end up the newest recruit in Boromir's mouse army, first division._


	44. Passersby

The ride to Edoras was more relaxing than Aragorn or Faramir had hoped. They kept their own pace, and with the help of the weather, were in no discomfort along the way.

There were some habits, though, that Aragorn would likely never break and eating lean on the road was one of them. No one else seemed much bothered by that fact though, as Arwen had sent along a good supply of lembas to supplement their other road food. In this way, there was no need to stop for meals as each could eat whenever he desired along the way.

The nights were merely mild and when sleeping in a huddle upon the earth which had soaked in the warmth of the sun all day, all were able to rest most comfortably. Aragorn had proposed that they share the watch each night, but Glorfindel would not hear of it and took the watch himself every night that they were out. It ended up that the Vanya watched the dream glaze in his lover's eyes more than anything, for the nights were peaceful with no trace of tension or malice to be sensed.

With all going well, the party arrived in Edoras two days ahead of schedule. They had not expected to be greeted by the King and Queen themselves, and moreover they had not expected to see Lothíriel riding Firefoot. Anyone who knew anything about the Rohirrim knew they were notoriously possessive about their horses and Faramir had to wonder just how much had changed in Éomer since his sister's death.

That night over an after-dinner aleÉomer took Faramir aside, once again thanking him for setting him straight on the day of Éowyn and Findiel's funeral. Though he had not stopped grieving for a dayÉomer had come to understand much and now felt much better equipped to handle his life and title. Faramir was just saying that he was glad to be of assistance when Éomer interrupted, a habit he had obviously not gotten rid of.

"I need more of your wisdom, though, Faramir. Tell me, what is fatherhood like?" Éomer asked, sounding, for the first time in his life, genuinely nervous.

Faramir was stopped short for a moment, first just trying to process what Éomer had asked him, then thinking of a suitable answer. Delightful did not rightly convey it... nor did entertaining.

Aragorn, as usual, overheard and offered his own opinion. "I can not speak for my son, but for me it has been an honor. It is something you must never take for grantedÉomer," he said solemnly.

"I know what it is to lose a father... never shall i take for granted being one," Éomer said every bit as seriously. "And it seems that i am going to become one near the same time that your Queen is due."

Both Faramir and Aragorn smiled, offering their congratulations. Éomer thanked them, but did not return the cheeriness. "I am worried sick about this," he confided. "I do not know how to be a father... i scarcely knew my father. I was just starting to get a little bit used to running a kingdom, which turns out to be a little more difficult than commanding an Éored, and now i am to be a father as well?"

This was one worry that could understand, but his situation had been vastly different and he could not quite understand why it should weigh so heavily on Éomer. "Surely you will have a nurse to assist my cousin, though?" Faramir asked.

"A nurse?" Éomer said. "We do not have nurses in Rohan. Children are cared for by their mother and father, it has always been so. No, my friend, it is down to me."

Faramir looked as though he was seriously considering challenging this idea that Lothíriel would be largely on her own in this matter, considering the fact that Éomer would obviously be rather busy running the kingdom, since he had yet to put any manner of trust into the man who was supposed to be his Steward. But Faramir thought better of it and resisted the temptation. Instead he chose to let the matter be, offer a reassurance to his brother-in-law, and to seek his sleep for the night. Most likely on the morrow after a proper rest he would be much more disposed to civilly discussing the pros and cons of methods of upbringing in Gondor versus in Rohan.

Aragorn, on the other hand, did not mind sitting up for a while to ease Éomer's fears over a couple pints of ale... each... several times.

The next day after breakfast Lothíriel asked her cousin to ride with her for a while. Though Faramir tried to hedge that a bit, not thinking it wise for a woman several months pregnant to ride, she convinced him that it was perfectly safe and that Firefoot behaved like an ideal gentle-horse with her. Perhaps even the horse knew that his war days were over. As they rode Lothíriel talked of the last time they were in Gondor, saying that she was very near staying in Minas Tirith, and had circumstances not been as they were, she likely would have. She had been finding it very hard going for her in Rohan, for even as mild and open as she was with her degree of Telerin blood, Rohan was no Dol Amroth to say the least. She told him that she was feeling much more at ease now that she was expecting and since Éomer's rather sudden endeavor to settle down and be a husband and king. However, she spoke of a longing to be near the sea again, or even the Anduin, any water that did not run the risk of going dry in the summer months.

Faramir grew concerned for his cousin, having seen this all too clearly once before. "Even Anduin would not be enough in time, 'Thíri," Faramir said gently. "The same thing happened to naneth. For as long as i knew her she hated Minas Tirith and wanted to go home with me so badly... he never let her. Even now what was left of her reposes in the Hallows. I was almost glad when she died, at least she was free. 'Thíri, listen to me, you need to go home, not permanently, but occasionally at least. Promise me that, promise me that you will not stay here in this barn... pardon me, Golden Hall... and waste away just because you think it your duty to be beside Éomer. And if he has anything adverse to say about it, one word from me should be enough to straighten him out; i think the same thing started to happen to Éowyn..."

Lothíriel rode close to her cousin and embraced him tightly. "You are so dear, Faramir. Thank you. I do give you my word."

Faramir nodded his acceptance and looked about at the sparse landscape. His eyes came to rest on the burial mounds just outside the city, one in particular, the newest. That sad look that had defined Faramir for most of his life returned momentarily as he whispered, speaking to someone who was not there, "I miss you... both of you. We all do."

Just then Éomer rode up, calling for his brother-in-law to join him for a while. Lothíriel was content to depart him and seek other company, perhaps the Elves who were in his party, but she made him promise that he would visit when the heir of Rohan arrived. Faramir gave his word, though he would not promise when, for he would also have a brother arriving at that time. That thought gave him pause as he thought of the brother he'd had and missing him fiercely. Faramir was glad that with the morning they would be continuing on to Rivendell.

-

_linda: Elboron's staying in Minas Tirith might have consequences... i can not say at this time. However, it would be quite impractical to take him along, travel is too hard on one that little._

_Elenhin: I have been meaning to read Hitch-hiker's Guide actually, for a number of years. I just keep delving further into Tolkien's world. I don't know about the tea... but i do know that 42 is the answer to everything._

_flowerbee: Hmm... work to death, you say? Indeed... (Oh dear! There is that evil light shining in my eye's again!)_


	45. Conducive to Conflict

Faramir rose before the sun that morning and set about preparing to leave. They would be spending a good month on the road going north and Faramir knew the importance of seeing to it that nothing was overlooked. Éomer, also being an early riser by nature, came to lend his brother-in-law a hand.

"On your way so early?" Éomer said seeing Faramir's horse already tacked. "Anyone would think you want to be away from here," he jested.

Faramir's diplomatic mind sought the more conciliatory reply. "Actually, it is more a matter of wanting to hasten to Rivendell," he said with a smile.

"I thought this excursion was meant to be restful for you, _Steward_," came a voice from Shadowfax's stable, causing both Men to lose a year of their lives. It was common knowledge that this was no ordinary horse... but speech? Faramir was relieved to see Gandalf step away from the white stallion. "Come gentlemen, let us take a proper breakfast. It is likely to be the last decent meal some of us see for another month," Gandalf said, not a touch of umbrage in his tone.

Faramir laughed. "It was your choice to join us, Mithrandir," he said.

"Not entirely, young Faramir," Gandalf huffed, leading out of the stables. "It was Elrond's 'suggestion' that i make the journey to Gondor, and this is the best opportunity i have to get back to Imladris and tell that Elf that the next time he wishes to be rid of me, _he_ shall have to be the one who displaces."

That morning saw the five riders off well-rested and prepared for their month in the wilderness. By the time they got to what had once been Hollin the nights had grown cold enough to keep a fire at night. After an evening meal, Aragorn and Gandalf would sit back and assess their progress thus far over a smoke, while Faramir often made his way with Glorfindel and Erestor away from the flames to star-gaze. It wasn't clear if Aragorn simply did not notice that Faramir stayed away from their campfire, though that was unlikely. It may have been that Gandalf kept him well distracted, or that he figured his son was just eager to learn from the Elves more about the stars that made the skies look like Thranduil's legendary gem horde.

Eregion and Eriador were no unfamiliar territories to Aragorn and Gandalf, and once Erestor also knew the land well, but that was many years ago. Glorfindel had not known Eregion in it's heyday and there were lands utterly alien to Faramir's eyes, though his mind knew the tales of Eregion forward and back. Alas, it was up to Aragorn and Gandalf to guide this group home, however, and they were a pair notorious for disagreeing on which path to take.

"Gandalf, clearly it makes more sense to cross the Glanduin near the Ost-in-Edhil ruins. If we head further east than that we shall have to ford two rivers and i, for one, do not fancy that in the least," Aragorn argued.

"By crossing there, like we should have done the last time i was on a journey with you," Gandalf said in a very meaningful tone, "we will end up adding nearly another week to this excursion. We can save time by crossing further east and then taking to ride over the Hollin Ridge, and from there it is a straighter shot right into Imladris."

Aragorn attempted not to roll his eyes overtly. "_I_ was the one who cautioned you against going in there, Gandalf. No one listened to _me_, though. Moreover, and to the point, if we cross at the ruins, then make our way west of the Ridge, we will be closer to the Bruinen and, thus, more handy to water, and that is what i favor."

"Would you have had us walk passed Isengard then? With Saruman also bent on the Ring and Theoden as much without control as Denethor?" the Wizard challenged. "That is to say nothing of the Uruks!"

"No, i would have pressed for the High Pass from the start. I would have been much more comfortable staying north and going through Mirkwood. I would have entered Mordor from the extreme East, it would never have been suspected. It was never my plan to go anywhere near Rohan or Gondor," Aragorn shouted back, "that was Bor-" he stopped himself suddenly, taking a breath when he realized that they were encroaching upon precarious territory.

All the commotion had drawn the other three back toward the campfire, though Faramir was seeming a little withdrawn yet, possibly still pondering whatever grand tales he'd been hearing from Glor' and Ere'. The two Eldar had their questioning gazes turned upon the dissenters, though Gandalf didn't seem put out in the least.

Aragorn stood in frustration. "You see? _This_ is why i have always traveled alone. The road is conducive to collision of interests," he said before angrily striding away into the trees. Faramir turned and went after his father quickly.

"Is it wise to let him go after Estel while he is in that mood?" Glorfindel more mentioned than asked.

"Faramir is the only one who could do so," Gandalf said with an apologetic sigh.

"Mithrandir, young Faramir has not been himself since we set out from Minas Tirith. I know he has long wished to see Imladris, but you think this trip wise just now?" Erestor said.

Gandalf nodded. "It is because Faramir has not been himself that i pushed you to prepare to make this trip. If anything this trip should have come some time ago, and were it put off yet again it could be detrimental to that poor lad's health. He needs Imladris now and this is why i do not wish to waste time in getting there."

"What troubles him, Gandalf?" Erestor asked in a low, worried voice, afraid of just what could be plaguing the young Mortal that he so desperately needed the healing arts of the Valley.

"His heart, mostly," Gandalf explained. "He is now fully aware of what happened to him when the ranks of Mordor nearly broke his City. It was revealed to him as mercifully as possible, but nothing could have truly cushioned the shock of finding out that he who Faramir had once regarded as his father tried to burn him alive. That is chief among Faramir's troubles at the moment, though there are certainly others that need to be allayed. Incidentally, please do not mention any of this to Aragorn. And say nothing of it to Faramir himself either. He has no desire to have this discussed. It is most likely that i only know because i was there."

Erestor nodded his confidentiality, but Glorfindel, ever the curious, felt the need to know more. "But if Faramir only just learned of what happened to him, what of that young guard? His friend... Belegorn?"

"Beregond, you fool," Erestor said. "All that has been said of him is that he saved Faramir's life, along with a few others of note. He knew not the circumstances. He should not feel ashamed of his fear in any way though," Erestor said, obviously feeling pity for Faramir, as he was just realizing why Faramir had suddenly started star gazing with them every night since they had starting building a fire a night.

"Of course he shouldn't," Gandalf said quickly. "He can not be pushed though, it will take him time. I am hoping that Elrond will be able to aid him."

"Naturally," Erestor said understandingly.

"But Gandalf, you are the fire-keeper, you of all should be able to help him!" Glorfindel said.

"The power of Narya is scarcely enough to light my pipe in these days, Glorfindel," Gandalf said much more patiently than Erestor would have.

-

Faramir claimed a spot beside his father and for a little while the two Men sat in silence, each in their own thoughts. After a time Aragorn took a drag on his pipe and exhaled. "I guess this isn't your favorite scent in the world," he said without looking up.

"Not particularly," Faramir answered. "But what makes you say that?"

Aragorn cracked one of his humorless smiles that only wryly touched his eyes. "Every night when we finish dinner and i light up you take off as quick as possible with Ere' and Glor'. It is almost as though you are trying to distance yourself from me."

Faramir looked suddenly over at Aragorn. "Never, father...," he practically choked. All of a sudden Faramir was fighting back tears of uncertain origin.

Aragorn did not fail to note the crack in his son's voice. "Ion-nín... what troubles you?" he asked gently. "You have not been yourself for weeks, my son, you seem so withdrawn."

Faramir almost felt panicked. He desperately wanted to confide his fear in his father, but something held him back, likely his old habit of trying to hide weakness. But so often he had allowed himself to be open to his father... and yet, this was so different. He simply felt that he could not tell Aragorn this; he felt he needed to be able to fight this for himself. Still, Faramir knew when he needed support and he allowed himself to be drawn into his father's arms... his _real_ father, who had fought to ensure he kept his life.

"All will be well, Faramir," Aragorn comforted. "I know the journey is taxing, obviously my nerves are wearing thin as well. I give you my word, though, no matter how strenuous a burden may be, Imladris has always been the most beneficial sanctuary. You will feel as though the Bruinen has carried your troubles away in it's rush."

Faramir could see it all so clearly in his mind's eye, the Last Homely House East of the Sea, and even here in the wilderness it's comfort surrounded him as he started to drift off into mild dreams while leaning against his father.

-

_linda: I know, it was sad for me to part them. But Faramir can't get used to smothering his son or become dependent on him. That would just end up making things way too hard for Elboron as he grows up. _

_Elenhin: We will likely see what little Elboron has been up to at some point before long. We will need to check up on Belthil filling in for his uncle with young Faramir's help anyway._

_flowerbee: Looking at Faramir like what? Who, me? And anyway, you can't blame me for Eowyn and Findiel's deaths... it was Castamir and Calimehtar,spawn of my muse. Besides, i think if Faramir's cousin died at this point either he or Eomer would lose it completely. I can't deal with a madman running loose in my stories just now._

_Just as a little "warning" to everyone... i envisioned Faramir's death last night. I absolutely refuse to say any more than that. It could come at any time, perhaps in this story, perhaps in the next one. Anyway... just a little something to worry about - but remember, mostthings we worry about never happen... except death, of course-D_


	46. Dreams Come True

With dawn Aragorn woke groggily with a bright light shining in his eyes. He pulled his hood up to cut the glare, but then noted that the light had not been shining in the east as the morning sun, but rather from the north. Nor had he noticed immediately that his actions had woken someone beside him until he realized that his son had been curled up beside him, his head still on his father's shoulder.

"Must've forgotten to pull the drapery to last night," Faramir mumbled, pulling himself up with a hand over his eyes and staggering toward the light source only to be caught by Gandalf.

"If you gentlemen have had quite enough sleep, the rest of us would like to be moving on...," the old wizard said impatiently.

Father and son glanced at one another with wry smiles and dusted themselves off to set out again. They were lucky enough to find some fresh berries while stumbling back to their campsite and felt much revived and ready for the road.

As they mounted and started to take up the north way Aragorn rode close to Gandalf. It was amazing how fast he had gone from looking the part of the great King of Men back to a grim, enduring Ranger again.

"I was doing some thinking last night, old Greyhame," Aragorn said.

"That's White-hame to you... you young upstart," Gandalf said in a stern timbre.

"Ai... does that have the ring of... _treason_ to it?" Aragorn said in the same voice. "And to think i was going to apologize to you..."

Gandalf snorted indignantly. "So you should! You owe me an apology. Arguing with me when you know perfectly well that i am always right... Upstart!" Gandalf said, his rant trailing off to a mutter.

"_Treason_...," Aragorn intoned, tauntingly leaning forward to see Gandalf's expression.

Aragorn saw rather little of Gandalf's expression as the Wizard whacked Roheryn, sending her speeding forward and nearly letting her rider go, had he not been blessed with quick reflexes. The King huffed and pouted dramatically every time Gandalf tried to talk to him the rest of the day, "just as though he had always known court-life," as Gandalf himself put it.

"I dearly hope this sort of foolishness does not run in the family," Glorfindel said with a guarded look toward Faramir.

"No, indeed, Master Glorfindel. The trouble, it seems, in fact resides solely in the condition of the re-born Balrog-slayer," Faramir said without missing a beat, and earning a "well done" from Erestor and a proud, paternal laugh from his father.

The rest of the trip carried on without any more real tensions, though everyone had begun to weary some by the time they had taken Hollin Ridge, some more than others. Aragorn and Gandalf had reached a compromise, Gandalf agreeing to a crossing of the Glanduin at Ost-in-Edhil, Aragorn agreeing to bear East from there, staying near the foothills of the Hithaeglir and crossing the Ridge to get to Rivendell faster. From Hollin Ridge it was only another four days ride into the valley, and now they took to riding longer into the night, as Faramir was the only one among them who did not know the land well from there on in.

It was early evening on the fifth day, Aragorn had just distributed some lembas for lunch - again - and started day dreaming of something that had just recently grown ripe on a tree branch other than a squirrel. There was no longer anyone "leading" per se, and Faramir was just following everyone else. The Steward noticed that Glorfindel had dropped back, or more to the point stopped riding altogether, and was just staring up ahead. Erestor noticed it to, and turned to question him.

"_Utulielmet a mar," _Glorfindel said in a whisper, before urging Asfaloth forward suddenly.

Erestor peered ahead into the distance and saw the sight his lover had seen, Imladris's indicative high moors. Aragorn, too, was well enough sighted to know exactly where they were and he, too, broke into a gallop, waving for Faramir to follow him. Erestor and Gandalf were the only ones content with a mere canter.

By the time the first three riders flew down into the valley as if to re-enact the last time Aragorn and Glorfindel had come riding into Imladris together, the sun was beginning to set the sky alight with color. It was Glorfindel who first clattered across the bridge and up to the courtyard. Then came Aragorn, who was followed by a slowing Faramir, slowing not for exhaustion, but awe.

Imladris's lush summer green mingled with evening's gold so red, painting a picture nearly as ethereal as the crisp autumn in the river valley. Every window of the House of Elrond bore a lantern glowing a gentle, comforting, and warm welcome. Never before in his life had Faramir felt so at home. This place was all that he imagined and so much more.

Rarely was Elrond's dinner ever interrupted in these days, let alone by such commottion out in his courtyard, thus the ruler of Imladris himself came out to greet the arrivals. Even Elrond was not able to hide his happiness at seeing Glorfindel, Aragorn, and Faramir again. Scarcely had he made it off the porch before Aragorn launched himself into Elrond's arms, momentarily stunning the great Elf-lord, who Faramir found to be much more imposing in his own realm than in the realm of Men.

It took only a moment for Elrond to get used to having an arm-full of dusty Ranger again, and with a laugh he embraced his "third son" tightly, whispering "ion-nín" to Aragorn's "adar." As Elrond pulled back to regard the Man, it was clear that any and all tension that had lingered between these two in the last few years had not only dissipated, but was unconditionally absolved. From that point on until they were back in Gondor, Aragorn had no intention of being King of anything, he sought only to be again in his father's care... most likely for the last time. Aragorn pulled his own astounded son toward him, nearly mid-dismount. This was one of his own wishes come true, to be here in this place with his own son as well as he who he regarded as his father.

Elrond smiled at Faramir's wonderment and spoke words the young Mortal had hoped for all of his life to hear one day: "Welcome to Imladris, Faramir."

-

_This chapter seems too short to me, but i thought it was a good place to break for now. More soon to come._

_Elenhin: Well, technically, Faramir can die and shall have to at some point... a pesky condition of Mortality. I don't think it will be too soon, though. Unless something dreadful should befall (but then, how many dreadful things can befall that poor boy?), i shall say this much only... he is safe in Imladris. Beyond that, you'll just have to keep reading. It may be that he dies a nice, peaceful, comfortable death at home in his own bed many, many years later. We may hope. We may see Elboron in the next chapter, indirectly at any rate._

_linda: Faramir is going to need to talk to someone and he will definitely need to get over his fear. Elrond might have the cure for that._


	47. First Night New

"Mae govannen," Faramir replied to Elrond's welcome, pressing a hand to his heart and bowing in keeping with Elven greeting form. It was a wonder he managed to say anything in his awe.

Glorfindel was working on rounding up the horses to take them to the stables after embracing his old friend when suddenly Elrond came to realization. As happy as he was to see Faramir, Aragorn, and his seneschal again, he had yet to see his chief advisor. Considering the ill feeling between Glorfindel and Erestor the last time he'd been around them, over a year ago, Elrond saw it as a cause for concern. Elrond was also a bit concerned that Erestor had possibly decided to stay in Minas Tirith because of the hand Elrond and his twins had taken in "setting-up" the dark-haired advisor with the golden Balrog-slaying seneschal. He knew just how upset Erestor had been at the time, and though Elrond was profoundly sorry that his friend felt his confidence had been betrayed, Elrond maintained that he only had Erestor's best interested at heart.

Unable to stem his concern, Elrond drew Aragorn in close, but before he could voice his concern, Aragorn said, "he and Gandalf are on their way... i think you'd best be prepared for a shock though, adar."

Elrond decided that it might be best not to ponder that too much and instead insisted that his son and grandson go ahead and make themselves comfortable. Faramir was still in a mild state of astonishment as he walked into the House of Elrond, marveling at the wholly foreign architectural style of the place. Everything flowed so naturally here and there were no awkward turns that one risked a collision by taking too quickly. But Faramir felt that in this place nothing was ever done too quickly.

"So, what do you think?" Aragorn asked his son.

Faramir opened his mouth to reply, but no words could he find to express what he felt in this place.

Aragorn laughed and put an arm around Faramir's shoulders. "That is exactly what i feel when i am here, as well. Come, i will show you around properly tomorrow. Tonight there are only three things that you need to know about Rivendell: it's baths, it's baking, and it's beds." Aragorn led the way up to his old chambers which were next door to Elladan and Elrohir's. He had to smile walking in there again. "Just the way i remember it," he said under his breath.

Faramir was still awed. "You grew up here?" he managed to say, almost in disbelief.

Aragorn just nodded. "This was my home until i was 20. In many ways it still is." He went to a intricately carved door off to the side of the room which looked at first glance as though a leafless tree with many entwined branches stood in an archway. Giving a little push to the door, it opened seemly of it's own accord. "Elven doors are not like ours," Aragorn said with a smile, walking into the adjoining room. "Will this be comfort for you?" he gestured to the room which was just as inviting as everything in Imladris.

"This place is perfect, father. I can not thank you enough for this," Faramir said genuinely.

Aragorn stepped closer to his son, resting a hand on his shoulder and holding his gaze with his own. "You thank me for bringing you here now, but i should have done this many, many years ago."

Faramir said nothing but pulled his father into his embrace. "Mind what is, adar, and fret not what was. We can only learn from the past, not correct it."

Aragorn took a step back, still holding Faramir's gaze. "You are wiser than i am, ion-nín. But come, let us shed this half of Middle-earth that we have dragged in," he said shaking the road dust from his coat, "and beyond that... let's eat and sleep." Faramir seconded the motion and Aragorn went to get some warm water from the kitchen.

Returning to their rooms, he found Faramir at his window immersed in the surroundings. Faramir turned when he heard his father. "I would have come after you, but i do not know where everything is... i hate for you to waste the trip, but there is already water in these baths," he said.

Aragorn grinned. Apparently someone knew they were coming. "It is just as well, i hadn't gotten the water yet," he said, producing a bucket of rocks instead.

Faramir looked a little concerned. "Elves bathe with... rocks?" he asked.

His father nodded. "Absolutely. Though, mind you, this is a rather hasty bath. You will have to try the hot spring pool tomorrow, it is unreal. But this will suffice for our immediate needs."

Faramir still had no idea what this custom was until Aragorn went to the sunken stone bath screened off in a corner of the room. Taking a pair of tongs which stood nearby, he carefully placed several of the stones in a shallow mote around the bath. "Mind not to touch the rocks," he cautioned and then went off to his own room and bath again.

If anything, Faramir was more confused than before. Don't touch the rocks, he wondered. Unable to suppress his curiosity any more he reached out tentatively, immediately drawing his hand back and involuntarily letting out a curse.

"I warned you," came Aragorn's voice from the next room. Faramir smiled sheepishly when his father appeared at the doorway. "See the ladle? Pour some water over the stones." Faramir did so and was surprised when they hissed and steamed. He nodded, finally getting the idea that the hot rocks would create a steam bath. "Enjoy," Aragorn grinned toothily. "Let me know when you are ready for dinner."

That evening after they took a private supper, the likes of which Faramir had never eaten in all his life, there were a few inevitable stories shared in connection to Aragorn's childhood chambers. Faramir was savoring every single thing in this place and wondered how he would ever be able to drag himself back to his story city when the time came. It was all too easy to see why Aragorn had been so reluctant to take the Crown.

Finishing off dinner with a glass of the lightest, freshest juice Faramir had ever tasted, both Men decided to call it a day and carry on the introduction come morning. If Faramir had not been so thoroughly tired from the journey he would have begged to see more, but as it was, he was content to crawl into bed and drift off. He literally did have to crawl into bed, for although Elves themselves did not require the same manner of bedding as Mortals for a comfortable sleep, in the House of Elrond they most certainly knew how to be hospitable to those who did crave comfort. This bed was in all ways more comfortable than his own.

One thing he noticed, for as welcoming as Imladris was to Mortals, he had not seen a single fireplace, which at first made him think that it should grow cold at night. His next thought, however, was that he was altogether thankful that he would not have to endure a confrontation with fire here in this peaceful place. Still, he didn't fancy spending another cold night, and asked his father if there were heavier blankets than what currently covered the bed.

Aragorn smiled, yet again, seeming truly at home here. "That coverlet may seem to be too light, but it is _hithlain _from Lorien, and will keep you perfectly comfortable, no matter the weather. However, should you grow truly cold," he said, walking over to pull back a tapestry which hid a neatly shelved stack of linens, "these blankets are woven from flax and are mostly kept here only for traveling Mortals. We took these when we tackled Hithaeglir and they likely kept us alive in that snow. They would be much too warm in anything but the deepest chill, though."

Just another wonder to add to the rapidly growing list. It was one of the first nights in Faramir's life that he had let himself fall asleep with _both_ eyes closed.

-

_linda: It is nice to see everyone happy and safe again. Maybe i am starting to get soft. _

_flowerbee: Up to something? Up to something? Oh, very nice friend! I writes nice angsty story and you says "up to something!"_

_Raska: Yeah, Aragorn really shines in his element. And there was no way i could just let him become king and never see Elrond again, especially not considering the way things had been between them for... oh, 67 years. Aragorn needs his dad too._

_Christie: You're right, you do need to catch up. I'll take it you enjoy so far. English teachers are always in one of either two categories: excellent or horrendous. There is no grey area on that one as far as i'm concerned. And frankly, the only reason i didn't (or at least havent yet, who knows what the future holds) go to college to become an English teacher is because i could have never stuck to any school's prescribed cirriculum. _

_Elenhin: Ah... geez... i'm really earning a reputation for hurting our poor Faramir! Honest, i'm trying to be nice to him. It's just all these things keep happening. I really can't say right now what the future holds for him after Imladris. He might well live out his days in peace and happiness with his father and son. Speaking of Elboron, you certainly do have my leave to start a fan club. I started the Faramir Appreciation League some time ago, but i have no clue what happened to it. I started writing more and lost track of it. It was a yahoo group at the time. Anyone want to join and help me resurrect it?_


	48. Imladris By Day

Honeysuckle. That scent had to be honeysuckle, Faramir thought as he lay in bed, just waking and feeling more rested than he had felt in a very long time. A gentle golden sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains billowing in the warm morning breeze.

The sweet scent reminded him of a time he and his brother had spent at Lossarnach when they were younger, the generous (as much in heart as the length of his belt) Lord Forlong showing them about his garden showing them which plants were edible. Apparently it was a delicacy in Lossarnach to pinch off the bottom of a honeysuckle flower and suck out the nectar inside. But then, some claimed that Forlong would eat anything that stood still long enough. Unbeknownst to Faramir, Boromir had thought of just the same thing when he was here in the temperate fall.

The thought of honey made Faramir hungry and he was beginning to wonder when the morning meal was served here when Aragorn looked in. "Ready for breakfast?" his father asked.

Faramir smiled. "I have heard that Lord Elrond can read minds... i suppose he taught you the skill?"

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then," Aragorn grinned. "Come on, we usually dine in the hall."

Faramir nodded, rose, and started looking through his pack for a tunic that wasn't too travel-stained or wrinkled.

"No need to both with that," Aragorn said, his son then noticing that his father was still only in leggings and a shirt. "There might have been a time that Imladris held formality in regard for each meal of the day... but that was quickly changed about 900 years ago when the twins came along. I daresay there will be rather few in attendance at breakfast who would mind if we wore nothing at all. I don't think there are even any more ellyth residing here... though i will ask adar before i get too comfortable," he snickered.

"You are worse than Boromir," Faramir chided, but trusted in his father's way of thinking and contented himself to just put on a fresh shirt. And to think he had seen his mannerisms of late as about as informal as could be! Faramir was quickly realizing that there was a lot to be learned from life in Imladris.

Breakfast was an altogether renewing experience in itself. The fruit was fresh and ripe and tasted better than any fruit ever had in Gondor. There were small, thin cakes which were light, mildly sweet, and crisp. The same replenishing juices they had with supper the night before were served. Faramir wondered if he could ever go back to the old way of eating when this seemed so much more delicious and nourishing.

Elrond apologized for the notable lack of meat at his table, but Faramir had not actually noticed and certainly had not missed it. He rarely ate much meat himself, only when catching a rabbit meant the difference between the energy to go on for another day and another hungry night, something Aragorn more than understood. Faramir had nothing but praise for the Elf-lord and his home.

After breakfast was finished, Aragorn practically flew from the table with Faramir, so eager he was to give him a proper introduction to everything. With everyone else gone from the main hall, Elrond and Gandalf finally had a chance to talk of all that had been going on. Elrond was grateful to know certain things in advance and was carefully going over some mental preparations he intended, things like serving Faramir a peppermint tea in the mornings and chamomile in the evenings, when the wisest of the Elven-lords witnessed two things he thought certain he would never behold here in his own home. First, Erestor had just come to breakfast... quite late. Second, he was holding Glorfindel's hand... lovingly. Elrond very nearly fell over from the shock of it and now understood his son's warning from the evening before.

Faramir and Aragorn had gone immediately to the sanctuary of the sword. It was an impressive place even though it no longer sheltered the shards of Narsil. There were many other tokens of elder days kept in this part of the house, enough to keep Faramir intrigued until a bell sounded in the tower, calling everyone together for the noon-day repast.

After lunch Aragorn offered his son a walk in Elrond's exquisite garden where Faramir encountered so many different and new growing things he could not keep up with them all, though he paid close attention to the ones with particularly beneficial qualities. Afterward and just as the sun began to make it's trek west, it was a visit to the secluded hot spring that Aragorn had suggested the night before. It was an utterly luxuriant experience and a therapeutic one, as well, that took away many of the aches both men had acquired on the long journey in.

It was a while before either said anything, just laying there in that hot water that didn't threaten to go cold if you stayed in too long was more than enough. After a time, Aragorn said "When we are done here, we shall dress and head back to the house to get ready for supper. By then Erestor will likely have had an entire wardrobe selected for us. When we walk back, stay close to me, all right?"

Faramir nodded, but had a questioning look in his eye.

"It's as much for me as it is you," Aragorn answered his son's unasked question. "You have never done this before, am i right?"

Again Faramir merely nodded.

"You will be a little shaky on your feet, you might be for a few hours," Aragorn explained.

"Adar," Faramir finally spoke, finding words were not always necessary here, "how can something as simple as taking a hot bath disorient a man?"

"You'll see," Aragorn said, leaning his head back again. "Your muscles will be feeling so relieved of their aches that they might forget that you need to be supported. And you will need to replenish, drink a lot of water, perhaps even a bit of miruvor will help. The Dúnedain have a similar cordial, but nothing like what adar has."

Faramir smiled and resumed his nodding response, and even though Aragorn's eyes were blissfully lidded, Faramir had a good idea that his father knew he had assented.

Aragorn was silent for a time, seemingly reliving a moment and savoring its detail. "I met Arwen here, i had just taken a long bath and was starting back when i saw her... I thought i was hallucinating."

Faramir just smiled, shutting his eyes also and listening to the birdsongs all over the valley, mentally trying to identify them all,giving up after a few minutes, and surrendering to the calm. After all, here he was at long last in Imladris, the stuff of so many of his dreams, and here with his own father. Could life get better than this?

After a while the two had returned to the house, still dripping from the hot bath, via the back porch. Aragorn still remembered just how much his father hated it when people would "drip" in his entranceway, that was to say nothing of Erestor. That night dinner was indeed a little more formal than breakfast and lunch had been, though Faramir couldn't help but think that perhaps it was all for his benefit, as much as he hoped it was not. Still, the meal was every bit as satisfying and delicious as everything he'd had since arriving the night before and every sip of fresh, cool water he took was sweeter than wine to him.

-

_A translation from a few chapters back (i beg pardon, i really meant to translate... it's just that when i upload sometimes i forget those little things in my haste to bring you dear readers the next chapter):_

_Utulielmet a mar - We are home (i think it is literally more like 'we have come to home,' but you all get the gist - it sounds better in Quenya either way.)_

_Elenhin: Ah yes... the famed exploding rocks of Scotland. Been to visit Tim the Enchanter, perhaps? Scotland is one of my favorite places too. Actually, to my knowledge, that should only happen if you are using river rocks (or lake rocks - loch rocks as they're called in Alba - aka Scotland). The idea is that the moisture is held in those rocks and when it is heated, the water, of course expands, thus... CRACK! I actually got the idea for the steam fromthe Native American custom of the sweatlodge, which i have been to on a couple of occasions. The idea is to build a very small wigwam of sorts, and i do mean small, you wonder how you will get in there, let alone any other people. There is a pit in the center which the heated rocks are forked into. The women go in first of course becausethe heatisn't as intense yet, you crawl in and you just lay there on the ground and sort of meditate as the leader pours water over the rocks and adds a little sage and other herbs. So anyway, yeah... more to come soon._

_Redone: I think Elrond is enjoying this having everyone around again just as much as Faramir is enjoying seeing Rivendell for the first time. We shall see what Elrond can offer Faramir come the next chapter, there is just too much to discover in Imladris to take in all at once._

_linda: Peace? What is that?_

_After a consultation with my crystal... (lapses into fey voice) this niceness has gone on long enough... the time for more angst is nigh!_


	49. Daeradar

After dinner Elrond invited everyone to the Hall to recline and enjoy tales and songs. There was once a time when the Hall of Fire was used solely on holidays, but now so many of the old customs had gone by the wayside. To Elrond there seemed to be so few people in Imladris these days, and in all truth he was glad to get some use out of his Hall for a change.

Lindir had readily offered to perform a new composition of his, a little too readily for Erestor's taste, prompting the advisor to finally seek out his office. A fair number of bets were lost when Erestor managed to hold out for an entire day after returning to get to his study. Glorfindel opted for singing in the Hall and fare-welled his lover with a peck on the cheek, making him promise not to stay up _too_ late. Had Glor' had Elrond's foresight he would have beat the Lord of Imladris to making up an excuse to busy Erestor elsewhere.

"Actually, Erestor," Elrond said, trying to keep his voice calm, "i was really hoping that you might start with my office." Elrond's smile was so endearing that Erestor had no choice but to sigh and agree to put off seeing to his own personal sanctum until morning. Now all Elrond had to do was pray fervently that his two eldest would be home by then.

Aragorn and Faramir were some of the last to make their way over to the Hall, their discussion of the differences of "formal" clothing in Gondor and Imladris too interesting too cut short. While Faramir was still a little reluctant to try the full robe style and had opted for the silver-grey cotehardie, Aragorn had chosen to wear burgundy robes much in the style that Elrond himself preferred. Faramir had to admit he was a little surprised by how regal his father looked, now more than ever, especially here in this place. Elven robes were nothing like what was the fashion in Gondor, nothing like the bulky fur trimmed ceremonial garments that only added to Denethor's appearance as a loathsome rat lurking under the throne. To many Elven eyes who had known another young Mortal who was more comfortable in a cotehardie than robes, Faramir looked to be following closely his father's footsteps.

At length, when they realized that they were the last ones left at the dinner table, they headed across the way to the Hall of Fire. Aragorn was certain that his son would love spending the evening just listening and taking in all the Elven way of life that where sung of in the Hall. The sounds of an ancient Elven song immediately enraptured Aragorn and he was scarcely aware of his own actions as he lay back in a plush chaise that he usually claimed when Arwen was not present in the Hall. Aragorn's mind was relaxed and vulnerable to the influences of the Elf-minstrel's song which was one of an idyllic place of flowering trees and tiny purple flowers blanketing a field in which one could lay at nightfall and watch as every star was kindled, one by one. It was not so long before Aragorn began to fall asleep in the song-induced reverie.

Faramir's experience of the Hall, however, was somewhat different. The first strains of Elven music were undeniably beautiful and soothing and Faramir even thought he could practically see the silver-green leaves swaying and mingling with the fragrant white blossoms on the trees that Lindir was singing of.

It was when he spotted the glowing flickering in the grand fireplace at the other end of the room that he froze mid-stride, involuntarily taking a step back, but finding he could not move any further away. He stood there staring into the flames, unaware of his surroundings and oblivious to even Lindir's music. His mouth went dry as his heart rate and breathing sped up against his will, he felt sweat beading on his brow, even though the room was as perfectly comfortable as everything else in Rivendell. There was a voice which seemed to emanate from the fire saying: "You never were strong enough... you will only fail further, Wizard's pupil!" Suddenly so much came back to Faramir's mind... Denethor, Boromir, the War, Éowyn and Findiel, his little Elboron, and every one of his doubts and insecurities.

Elrond had watched Faramir very closely as soon as he saw him enter the Hall. Naturally, Aragorn had trusted his son to make himself comfortable in the hospitality of Imladris and so had taken his own comfort without a second thought. Elrond was cautious not to intervene too quickly, unsure if Faramir's fear of fire was really more than just a hesitation. It was when the young Man started to tremble that Elrond quietly rose and put an arm around Faramir's shoulder, gently and inconspicuously, but quickly, guiding him out.

The Peredhil lord lead Faramir to be seated on a settee out of the way, not far from his private study. Elrond left his charge alone for just a moment to fetch a mixture of lavender and mint which he gently applied to Faramir's pulse points. In a few moments Faramir's breathing grew normal again and he seemed aware. "Faramir?" Elrond coaxed soothingly.

Faramir turned to see Elrond sitting beside him, the wise Elf's eyes as full of compassion as his father's often were. Faramir's heart began to ache intensely and tears tore at his throat, and though he fought hard, they reached his eyes and once they began to spill he could not quell them. Elrond enfolded the young man in his arms tenderly as Faramir choked out against his shoulder "forgive me, Lord Elrond..."

Elrond gently rubbed Faramir's temples, cradling him against him. "Daeríon-nín...," Elrond whispered, "your heart has taken too many wounds and contagion set in. Only now is the poison being drawn, now that you have seen peace. This is a painful process, i know, and one that i can not dull for you, but i can walk with you and aid you through it."

"I just want this pain to cease!" Faramir sobbed, no longer trying to show himself as decorous before the great Elrond. "Can i never escape it? Not ever here in this sanctuary, where i have longed to be for so long."

Elrond held Faramir closer, touched by his sincere love of Imladris, as sincere as Elrond's own love for his land. "This may or may not be a consolation to you, Faramir, but a heart that hurts is a heart that beats. Not all pain is evil, there are times when pain reminds us of how extremely we are capable of loving. My child, it is not often that i counsel one to let go of the past, for often does the past serve us in the end, but this time i see an exception. Do what you can to let go of Denethor and the War. Those were things you should have never had to endure. Think now instead on your father who loves you as much as i love him and you both. Think now on the hand you have in shaping the future of Middle-earth and the good that you can impart. I no longer fear to set out to sea and go to my beloved Celebrian, for i know that with you and Estel at the fore the sort of love and peace i myself fought for may come to pass."

Faramir was quiet for a while, appreciating greatly Elrond's words, before speaking again. "And what of my mother? Boromir? Éowyn and Findiel? " Faramir grieved as a new wave of crippling pain overwhelmed him and Elrond kept his steady and loving hold of him. "I only began to allow myself to mourn for my brother when my wife and daughter were taken from me. My own son... Valar! Why did i ever leave my child behind? How could i be so selfish?"

"Faramir, i do not believe that you have ever performed a selfish act in your life," Elrond grinned slightly. "Since i learned you were coming, i've been keeping an eye out on Minas Tirith myself. I should have told you sooner that i find my great-grandson is every bit as charming as his father and grandfather... and great-grandfather, if i may speak confidentially."

Faramir allowed himself a small smile, feeling the pain in his heart abate somewhat and comfort making inroads. Elrond still had not loosened his hold and that was what Faramir needed desperately - someone who had no notion of pulling away first.

"If you wish, i can teach you how to correctly use a palantír," Elrond said. Faramir seemed hesitant though. "When used correctly it poses no threat of addiction or vulnerability," Elrond assured. "As Aragorn's son, you have a true right to utilize it. May i say that i applaud you for your desire to do without it, for that shows great quality on your part... but you know, the original intent of the palantíri was communication between those who are distant. It may help to ease your heart to see for yourself how well your son is doing. Does he always pull at the tresses of his caretakers?"

Faramir laughed through the few tears that lingered. "Always," he said. "I have no notion how i shall ever coax him to break the habit as he grows older."

Elrond smiled kindly. "He will outgrow it much too soon," Elrond said softly. "There was another youngling who used to have the same habit when he came here at the age of two. He most liked to pull his adar's hair when it was in intricate braids and usually just before an important meeting. It saddened me that the day i welcomed Bilbo, Gandalf, and Thorin and his company here my braids were perfectly intact."

Again Elrond and Faramir were silent for some while, comforted in each other's company more than anything at that moment. "Faramir, you are much too tense still to truly enjoy your stay here. Come with me, i have a remedy for that." Elrond lead the way down to the rooms set aside for healing. As Elrond ducked into a side room he instructed Faramir to strip to the waist and lie down comfortably. When Elrond the healer emerged again Faramir looked as though he might be ready to fall asleep. This was always easier when the patient was in a peaceful sleep, so Elrond kept him talking a bit at first. Essential oils prepared, Elrond took a moment to feel where the tension was centered mostly, not surprisingly in the young man's shoulders.

"Are you at ease?" Elrond asked.

"Yes," Faramir replied, with too much voice to truly be at ease.

Elrond nodded once and rearranged Faramir's arms so that they bore no weight and guided his forehead to rest against a pillow. "Now are you at ease?" he asked again.

Faramir smiled and simply nodded as the great Elf-lord Elrond the wise took the time to ease the muscles in his neck and shoulders, down his arms and across his back. After nary fifteen minutes Faramir was sound asleep. Elrond worked at the Steward's highly abused muscles for two hours time before finishing with a special arnica salve to some scars, the causes of which Elrond did not wish to imagine.

When Faramir woke the next morning he felt like a new man. Cricks that he had learned to live with over the years were now gone and a young feeling pervaded. By the bedside was a plate of fruit and a glass of juice with a note reading:

Faramir,

Be certain to take your time in rising. Do not move in haste. You should be feeling much more your age now. Your father wishes to save the "best" of Imladris for last and i shall not encroach. Please stop by my study when you are able.

Love,

Daeradar

Faramir beamed contentedly. Even though the message was cryptic at best there was one thing he understood above all else, the last two lines.

-

_It looks as though i'm not going to be able to wrap this story up in 60 chapters like i did the last one. Does anyone feel that this is getting too long or anything? I, personally, think it is going along at a good pace, but then i am bias._

_linda: Fara' and Aragorn really have needed this peace for a long, long time. It is going to help them both dramatically, especially Faramir._

_Elenhin: Ah, sauna and beer, what a combination! I know i would get dehydrated too easily with that though. I'll stick to fresh water and berries after a sweat, i can only just get through the sweat itself. I can see the idea of sweating out impurities and the cleansing effect of alcohol though. Every time i get a cold or flu i cure it with whiskey or rum. _

_And honest, my crystal is hardly the size of a tennis ball and perfectly clear. No danger there i would imagine. _

_I can only imagine waking up with a sheep nibbling one's tent, but it sounds kind of endearing. I don't do a lot of camping these days, too softened to the creature comforts i guess, but near my favorite place to vacation at the ocean is an island famous for its wild ponies called Assateague Island. It's a national park and so camping there is permitted. I have heard from people hardier than i who have camped on the island that it is not unusal to wake up with a horse's head in your tent. It is a great place to visit though, as the horses have the run of the island and will walk down the middle of the road if they so desire, causing traffic to back up endlessly. They are most beautiful, though, when they walk along the surf. If i think of it, i will send you a picture of the island._

_flowerbee: False sense of security, eh? Well, we shall see. I make no promises._


	50. Personal Tour

As Faramir began to rise after quietly enjoying his own private breakfast there was a gentle rap at the door. Erestor entered first, carrying a few items, followed by Aragorn. "How are you feeling," Aragorn asked, trying to keep the concern from his voice.

Faramir smiled. "Like new, father."

"Good," Aragorn said with a sigh. "I woke up in the hall this morning and at breakfast adar told me i could find you here. I was a little worried."

"All Faramir needs is what he has always needed, Estel, his father and some peace," Erestor interjected. "I should have seen how tense you were, Faramir, i apologize that i did not. I could have eased that for you long ago, i do not know why i did not -"

Faramir grinned. "No apology is necessary, mellon-nín. You know what they say, all who love are blind."

"All who love reborn Balrog-slayers certainly are likely to be blinded. Has Gondor a need for an extra beacon, perchance?"

"I heard that," came a pair of voices from an adjoining room and Faramir had to smile.

Erestor just shook his head. "I trust this ensemble will be suitable for you today?" he said offering Faramir a neatly folded stack of clothes.

Faramir laughed. "I thought i once called you my adjutant, and now you seem to have been demoted to squire."

"There are no such ranks here, only friends that offer service to their guests," Glorfindel said, emerging with Gandalf. "There is a bath drawn for you. I used these," he held out three small vials. "These will help you stay relaxed. When you leave in a couple months come to me and i will give you a supply of these to use at home and instruct you on their uses."

"If i shall receive this manner of treatment every time i overtax myself i will do it more often," Faramir said, earning a sharp glance from Gandalf.

"I will not be upon these shores yet in the next 37 years. If i were, however, i would see to it you never overwork again, regardless of what i might have to... conjure up!" the White Wizard said, barely containing the twinkle in his eye.

The two Elves and Wizard left the room, leaving father and son alone. "I really should have brought you here in the beginning, Faramir," Aragorn said sadly. "I had no notion that your days would be so -"

Faramir took his father's hand understandingly. "Father, Elrond said something to me last night that i am going to do my best to hold to, but i shall need your help. He said that there are certain aspects of the past that i need to make peace with and let go of. None can now allow the past to hinder the future, and that is especially true for you and i. Last night, a lot of the past caught up to me at once, but i am fine and i will be fine. I understand things a lot better now. At the moment though, that bath sounds inviting and i should take it before it grows cold," Faramir said with a reassuring smile.

Aragorn nodded and said that he would meet Faramir in the garden afterward. When Faramir emerged he found his father reclining on a low bench on a veranda in the garden, his pipe in hand. Low really did not describe this particular piece of furniture and in fact it looked rather out of place, Aragorn's long legs stretched out in front of him, the only way a man his height could sit there. As he walked closer, Faramir could see that his father was sitting with someone and chatting quietly.

"Ah, Faramir," Aragorn said, waving his son over. "I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. It is my honor to introduce you to Master Bilbo Baggins. Bilbo, this is my son, Faramir."

Faramir stood wide-eyed, of all the living legends he'd ever met, Bilbo was probably the most remarkable, aside from Sam and Frodo themselves. After all, great things were practically to be expected from Elves and Wizards. "_Mae govannen_," Faramir said respectfully to the finally agéd Hobbit, adding a bow out of habit.

"Bilbo Baggins, at your service," said the little, white haired fellow in a thin voice with little bow of his own.

For a while the three chatted amiably, Faramir duly impressed with everything Bilbo spoke of. Faramir and Aragorn shared a light elevensies with Bilbo, not long after which the Hobbit nodded off as he often did in these days. Aragorn chuckled lightly, whispering "_vanya este, mellon_." He then looked up at his son and said, "let us have some lunch."

At lunch Elrond asked Faramir if he would mind sparing some time after supper, to which Faramir agreed, though he did not know what the Elf-lord had in mind. It seemed that Aragorn also had something in mind for the rest of the afternoon, though through lunch he was mostly catching up with his newly-arrived brothers, who said that they would love to join their brother and his son but had some work of their to catch up on.

Such were words that Aragorn never guessed to hear from those two, but when he saw Erestor come to breakfast that morning supported by Glorfindel and looking whiter than even an Elf should he had a feeling that the twins had something to do with it. Erestor kept muttering over his tea "my study..." and Aragorn could only guess, but didn't really want to; it was more than enough to have learned that Elrond delegated his eldest two to attempt to take over Erestor's tasks while he was in Gondor. It was amazing really that Erestor had made such a swift recovery, but then there was a lot about Erestor that was only just beginning to come to light.

As lunch was wrapping up Elrohir voiced the inevitable question, saying, "What brings you home, brother... did Wennie finally throw you out?"

Aragorn raised a brow at just the same moment that Elrond did. It was wasted on the twin miscreants though. "I will have you know that my wife and soon-to-be mother of my child bid me a very pleasant farewell before this journey."

"Ai Elbereth! Our sister!" Elladan cried. "I see why you have come. How far along is she?"

"She is due at the end of the year," Aragorn replied rather proudly.

"Half-term," Elrohir muttered ominously. "You have our deepest sympathies. Adar? You have checked him for any contusions?"

Elrond glanced apologetically at Aragorn. "The two of you should not say such things. Always frightening your little brother..."

"Adar," Elladan said, "you know how much we love naneth, but you remember how she was with 'Wen."

"Your left eye was swollen shut for a week!" Elrohir said.

Elrond cringed at the memory, then thinking quickly he suggested the twins head back to Erestor's study so that they might make some progress before supper. Aragorn and Faramir took the opportunity to depart also, Aragorn leading the way to the back of the house and pausing at the door.

"I am certain that what is in this room you shall love more than all else i have introduced you to," Aragorn said. "I am surprised you have yet to ask me of it."

Faramir tilted his head in question, but as Aragorn opened the door his curiosity was replaced by the ever-present awe he felt here. Father and son spent the rest of the day relaxing in the library of Imladris, and Aragorn had a feeling that he would find his son there quite often from then on.

Together, father and son spent the entire afternoon in the library. It was just as Aragorn had expected, he had never seen his son so entirely in his element before. It seemed to Faramir that it was nearly unachievable that so much knowledge could possibly be kept in one place, but here it was. Aragorn immediately picked up his favorite tome and began reading, whereas Faramir spent most of the day just marveling at everything there; it was impossible for him to chose any one subject, let alone any one book, to read. Aragorn guessed that Faramir might decide on one book by about the first month into their stay.

-

That evening after supper Aragorn and his brothers went outside to watch the summer stars fill the skies and to catch up on old times. Elladan and Elrohir wanted every last detail on what happened between Erestor and Glorfindel after they all left for Edoras and then back home. Even they were impressed with themselves that their conspiracy to get those two together actually worked.

Faramir went with Elrond out to the gardens where they walked quietly for a while, as every now and again Elrond would pull off a past-peak flower head or pull a stray weed. As the light grew fainter and fainter and the evening stars began to appear Elrond sat by a fountain niche and invited Faramir to relax. Elrond pointed to the brightest star in the sky, Faramir knew it well.

"That star is my father," Elrond said in a poignant tone. "I never really knew him. I never had anyone to confide in or look up to. Not as you do." Elrond sighed and turned to Faramir. "Why do you fear fire?" he asked, taking the young Man off guard.

For a moment Faramir was stuck for any way to explain his fear. "I did not always," he said finally. "Fire was once as an ally to me, as it is to any Ranger. But then i... Just before we made this journey i had a dream. I'd been having similar dreams now and then for maybe a couple of months, only each time i dreamed there was more detail. A week before we left everything in my dream and what it meant became clear to me. On the day that Minas Tirith's gate was breeched, Denethor tried to... set fire to me."

Elrond had no difficulty seeing that this was very difficult for Faramir to speak of, understandably, but he also knew that it was a part of the healing process that could not be passed over. He opened his arms to the man he considered his grandson and offered him comfort and a sense of protection.

"I had a terrible fever," Faramir continued softly. "My company was sent back out to Osgiliath after i pulled them back. The orcs were too many and already so many had been lost. I thought i'd done right in sparing them, but... i was the only one who made it back the second time. It was a suicide mission i was sent on, only...," Faramir's voice dropped to a whisper, "i could not even die right for him and so Denethor had to take the matter into his own hands."

For a while neither said anything, though the silence bore no trace of tension. When Faramir seemed to realize that confiding in someone else eased the pain of the memory, Elrond rose and asked Faramir to join him.

Together they walked out of the gardens and around the house. Crossing the broad green lawn, Elrond had seemingly change the topic of their discussion from Faramir's fear to the shards of Narsil which were once kept in Imladris. Faramir listened so attentively that he hadn't realized to where they were going until the were there. Faramir felt again a feeling of constriction overtake him and he wanted to run but felt frozen in fear. Elrond stood right behind him lightly massaging a tincture of lavender and peppermint onto Faramir's temples, the fragrance taking it's effect over the fear of the fire.

"Come, Faramir, these fires are very carefully contained. When the sword Andúril was reforged, it was done so here in Imladris, by these smiths. These men work with flame each day as they once did in Eregion. They have been doing this for many, many years without so much as a spark going astray and from their fire prophecies were fulfilled. In this way, fire is used to the advantage of Men, and their craft is second to none i have ever seen."

Faramir seemed to take this under consideration, but still seemed very little at ease. Again Elrond walked with Faramir back toward the house, talking lightly. "The lamps in the windows," Elrond pointed out. "You do not mind them, do you?"

Faramir shook his head. To have these things pointed out was mildly confusing. "No... the lamps seem comforting," he said slowly.

"As they are meant to. Come with to the healing chambers again, if you will," Elrond said, leading the way back inside. Elrond went to a board table on which sat many small, intricately carved chests. Opening one, Elrond took out a delicate scalpel, causing Faramir to flinch involuntarily. Elrond laughed. "I have no intention of using this, i merely want to illustrate a further point. I rarely have use of these around here, but every so often i have had to lance the occasional wound, lest contagion worsen. When i do so, this blade absolutely must be perfectly sterile. To ensure this, i hold the cutting edge in the flame of a candle. The fire burns off any impurities," Elrond explained. "And i know i have no need to explain to you just how important the warmth of a fire is to a traveler. Faramir, when used wisely and correctly, fire poses no real threat to us, and as you said, it can be our ally. It is wise of you to be cautious and alert, of course, but you need not fear flame. And furthermore, can you ever really think that i or your father or any one of us here would ever be so careless as to allow any harm to come to you? You are more loved than you know, Faramir."

For a while Faramir was quite, taking time to absorb the fact that he could allow someone else to help him get over his fear, and the very fact that someone as great as Elrond was so willing and wanting to help him. He was starting to see the real meaning to a phrase his brother often used, "a burden shared is a burden lessened." Faramir looked to Elrond, who seemed to just be waiting for Faramir as though he had all the time in the world, and he wondered how it was possible that someone was powerful as the wisest of Elves could seem so utterly untroubled by his responsibilities.

"I didn't want to speak of this to my father because i did not want to burden him," Faramir said at last. "He has so much to worry about already and i did not want to add to his concerns. I felt that this was something which was affecting me alone, and thus it was my duty to try my best to deal with it on my own."

Elrond held Faramir close. "You shall never be on your own when you need help, Faramir, not for all the rest of your days. Eighty-four years ago, i held in my arms a child who was utterly terrified that Sauron himself had come to our valley. It was a stormy night, and two Elf-twins had been telling stories again. After i showed him on a map just how far Imladris is from Mordor, i held him and told him of Manwë and Ulmo and how they are the Masters of Wind and Rain, respectively. Of course, you know all of that, and you likely know that Gandalf has borne Narya for many years and is adept at fire-craft. Well, you have seen the fireworks he so delights in producing."

At that Faramir did raise a genuine smile. The old Wizard was never quite as happy as when he was lighting colorful and imaginative rockets for everyone's entertainment.

Elrond, too, smiled genuinely at his grandson, knowing that, though it would take time for Faramir to be truly au fait with fire again, they had won the battle together. That night a fair number of Elves had gone to the Hall of Fire again when clouds rolled in and veiled the stars. This time both Aragorn and Faramir joined them. Faramir, knowing that his father and grandfather were near at hand, let himself for the first time in his life become blissfully lost in the magic of Elven songs.

-

_I hope the length of this chapter makes up for the delay in getting it up. I was otherwise occupied for most of Saturday, and then Sunday i was doing some updates and maintainence on my computer instead of writing (foolish me - downloading Windows Service Pack 2 ended up messing up my whole system for some reason and i couldn't even get into my control panel to uninstall it. I was on the phone waiting for tech support and listening to the absolute worst elevator music for two hours - no exaggeration whatsoever - and while i was waiting i rebooted in safe mode and fixed it myself.) All is back to normal now, though i may now have to make a trip to Imladris myself to be healed from those horrible sounds i had to bear with._

_Elenhin: Taking a sauna before jumping into cold water makes a lot more sense than standing around in a swimsuit and wrap skirt for a half an hour before running into a lake that was iced over the night before on New Year's Day, but who ever said the Polar Bear's are a sensible group of people :) Anyway, t__here will be more about palantiri in the next chapter i believe. Though it will be real palantiri that are used. Mine just makes my desk look... mysterious. There are also frogs, a wizard, a centaur, candles, and way too many books. So maybe it isnt so much mysterious as it is a mess._

_AM: Long time, no see. Glad you are enjoying. _

_frodo: You are absolutely correct in your assessment of the "too close" situation. It's a matter of not being able to see the forest for the trees. Then you have the problem of Faramir not wanting to 'burden' Aragorn. _

_linda: You don't usually like Elrond? Why not? At least he isn't Denethor. He does love Faramir a lot. This whole Rivendell section has me really wanting to write that "what-if" of Faramir being raised there instead of Minas Tirith. I think that would really soften your impression of Elrond, we never really get to see his soft side._

_flowerbee: The longer the better you say? Excellent! I really have made a point of trying to make this all flow smoothly and believably. _

_Since no one seems to mind that this story has already reached 50 chapters and is on track to hit (i think) at least 70, i'm not going to worry about the number of chapters and just write and let it flow in its time._


	51. The Palantír

That next afternoon Faramir was utterly torn between spending the day in the library or spending it outdoors. Even indoors scarcely seemed to really be "in" when one was at the Last Homely House. Faramir compromised with himself by taking a particularly interesting book and reclining in the garden. Already Faramir was feeling at home and no longer shy about where he was going and what he was doing. In fact, he was much more at home here than he had ever been in Minas Tirith. Here he felt at ease and welcomed and in no way judged; the only expectation there seemed to be of him was that he just be himself in all things.

That afternoon at lunch Aragorn picked up the book Faramir had beside him. He grinned seeing the title _Lay of Leithian._ "So that is where that went off to. I'd been looking for that this morning," he said.

Faramir looked apologetic. "Adar, i am sorry, i had no idea you where reading it," he said handing the book to his father.

"Oh no," Aragorn said quickly. "I don't need to read it again really, i could recite most of it in my sleep."

The twins glanced at one another. "Actually, Estel... you have done so," Elladan said.

"On more than one occasion," Elrohir added, as was his wont.

Aragorn raised a brow, looking much too much like Elrond. "I will not mention at the table the things the two of you have been known to do in your...," he cleared his throat insinuatingly, "sleep."

Elrond took a deep breath and did his best to ignore the conversation that was sure to be forthcoming. Instead he leaned close to Faramir and asked him if he wanted to undertake palantír usage.

For a moment Faramir hesitated, so much terrible trouble had come because the wrong people had used them in the past. But Faramir reminded himself that the past was over. He nodded and Faramir and his grandfather slipped out of the dining hall.

Neither Aragorn nor his twin brothers nor Glorfindel, who had also joined the conversation, noticed anyone leaving; Erestor did, however, and took it as his cue to exit as well, leaving the other four to their contest to see who could come up with the most ribald pun. Erestor was truly happy to be back home, especially now that his study was back to the state of perfection that he'd left it in. It was the wonder of Imladris that Erestor had not gone on the warpath when he saw the desecration the twins leave in their wake, but then, some noticed that since coming back from Gondor, Master Erestor was a much changed Elf.

As Elrond lead Faramir to his own private inner sanctum, Faramir asked, "Do you think i could see my son? As much as i love it here, this morning in the garden i noticed for the first time how much i miss his little fists in my hair."

"I know very much how you feel," Elrond said with a sad smile. "I can not give you my word that you shall be able to make much use of this immediately," the Elf-lord said, pulling away a heavy silk-velvet that covered the palantír. "Your use of it depends very much on your will and the strength of your mind, as well as other, less tactile factors. I must also warn you that you are liable to feel quite exhausted from your attempt, that is why i do not recommend frequent use of these things. In any case, let us take this one step at a time. The first and most important thing is that the palantír gets to know you. Pick it up and hold it, let it get a sense of who you are."

Faramir reached out tentatively to the mystical orb. As his fingertips made contact with it, it started to glow and Faramir swore it hummed faintly. He could feel a strange vibration flowing from the palantír to himself and he immediately withdrew his hand as if it had been burnt.

"Sidh, Faramir!" Elrond said soothingly. "There is nothing to fear. This is quite safe in these days, great thanks to you." He took his grandson's hand, gently guiding it back to the seeing stone. Faramir's hand again made contact, but this time Elrond kept his hand over Faramir's in reassurance that this was safe, and also that, were something to go awry, Elrond was right there to intervene. "Feel it respond to you?" Elrond said, slowly moving his own hand back.

Faramir nodded and moved a little closer to the palantír. The previously darkened orb began to glow stronger now and Faramir sensed what was almost like a clearing, a changing of the very quality of the rock. It was growing less dense and he could almost see something coming into focus in the center of the impossibly deep stone. Everything around him seemed to drift away and he was sure that if he looked a little harder, deeper into the stone he could see and understand what was being shown there.

Elrond saw Faramir sway and noticed that the young man did not try to straightening himself and quickly but calmly Elrond slipped his hand under Faramir's, breaking the contact with the stone. Faramir looked up as though he had just woken and Elrond's smile was thin. "That should be enough for now. It knows you and will response to you later. You should be in the garden or off under the trees on a beautiful day like this," Elrond persuaded Faramir without much effort. "Here," he handed Faramir the copy of the _Lay of Leithien_ that he'd left on the table by Elrond's door.

Faramir smiled, taking the book. "Thank you, daeradar," he said embracing his grandfather, as such, for what was actually the first time.

"Do not waste time thanking me!" Elrond said, "Go and enjoy this day. We shall work with this again tomorrow. Rest for now, though."

Faramir nodded. "I do feel a little tired. Perhaps a nap in the garden will refresh me," he said with a grin, then turned and made his way down the hallway.

"You will sleep best under the lavender!" Elrond called as Faramir disappeared around a corner.

"Another one you will be loath to leave," said a voice, every bit as velvet as Elrond's own.

"Ai, Erestor... this is going to be much harder than i thought," Elrond conceded, still watching down the hallway. "Take a glass of wine with me and tell me how everything went in Gondor," the Lord of Imladris said, turning his attention fully back to Erestor. "We have had such little time to talk, you and i, since your return. As usual, you always seem to be busy... though it seems you have a new preoccupation?" Elrond said, an arm about his old friend's shoulder as they sat down in Elrond's chamber.

_Upon my first upload of this chapter i noticed that i had forgotten to leave reviewer responses. My apologies!_

_Two important questions: 1) **Have any of my readers a debilitating fear of snakes**? and 2) **Who wants Hobbits**? The next few chapters depend on your replies._

_linda: I totally agree, Faramir needs to talk to Aragorn, too. Though, if i know Faramir, he won't say anything at all until it's no longer an issue for him. I fear that Aragorn may not appreciate that though and feel, perhaps. Might make him feel a little jealous. As to gifts bestowed, that will come in time._

_Elenhin: Moose on an island not a hundred paces? That would be hard to miss. Still, i understand that irrationality of fear. As for the twins helping with Faramir's fear... let's just hope they don't. I like Faramir, after all, and i think i have done enough harm to him (maybe...)._

_The Polar Bears are a club of people who could probably be diagnosed as clinically insane who, every year on New Year's Day, gather at a chosen aquatic location andgo for a'swim'- for our 'chapter' it is adammed up lake about 40 miles west of where i live, about a 5 minute ride from Cathy and Frank's (the folks with the log cabin in the woods and the horses i told you about). Most people don't exactly swim, though some do. I just run in and back out, as much as a person can run back out of a freezing lake. It's a unique way to start the New Year though, and hanging out at the cabin afterward is great. _

_I think i agree about desks. If they are not cluttered, they are not desks, merely tables. Yet my desk is not as full as my book shelf. I can not even readily access my books without great care - they are guarded by a plethora of LotR action figures. Top shelf, of course, is the Fellowship, second shelf is secondary characters (including a certain Ranger from Ithilien, three Rohirrim, five Elves, a White Wizard, an Ent, and an elderly Hobbit), and the bottom shelf is orcs, witch kings, another White Wizard, a Southron, Gollum, and a Dark Lord,though elsewhere are Gil-galad and Elendil._


	52. The Weight of a Choice

Late that afternoon found Aragorn and Glorfindel keeping Bilbo company through dinner - the elderly Hobbit often slept through supper these days. After a rather short while, Glorfindel got up and wandered off. He'd only been there because Estel was there, and since Elrond and Erestor were both occupied he needed someone to attach himself too; he was an Elf altogether used to being paid attention to and when that was not the case he grew bored quickly. At the moment, Bilbo was carrying on, again, about the Erebor mission, and Glorfindel thought that hearing that tale one more time would drive him to madness. Besides, he thought sulkily, the Balrog was a lot more impressive than Smaug any day.

In his self-indulgent petulance, the Vanya very nearly tripped over a sleeping Man in Elrond's garden, napping beside a lavender row on the soft, cool green grass. Faramir looked so very peaceful that Glorfindel just could not resist waking him. Just as he was leaning down, though, two acorns landed on his golden head... only that was not an oak he was under. Looking up, the Balrog-slayer of Gondolin saw exactly what he expected - a pair of matching black squirrels who claimed to be the sons of Elrond, though Glorfindel had started to wonder if that was true or if they only maintained that to avoid retribution.

Leaping down as lightly as Elves do, the two did not disturb Faramir at all and instead ushered their annoyed mentor off to have a spar before supper. As it turned out, there was more than just the relaxing effect of the lavender under which Faramir had allowed himself to fall asleep which allowed him to rest well; two guards posted in the limbs above, watching out for their little brother's son, was certainly beneficial to the Steward's respite.

Also watching from above on Elrond's balcony was Erestor, though he would have dropped more than an acorn on Glorfindel's head had he been fool enough to wake Faramir, of all people. Erestor just shook his head, relieved that the twins had intercepted his lover. "If only i could convince him that sitting still in solitude for an hour is not physically painful," Erestor said to Elrond, turning back and taking a seat opposite his old friend.

"I doubt you will," Elrond said patiently. "I know little of re-embodiment, but as near as i can tell, physically he is on par with my eldest two. I can not remember what it is to have that much energy."

"_You_ can not!" Erestor said with an annoyed huff. "Try my role, will you? I have been sleeping more than ever, i can not remember the last time i watched a moonset."

"You will be coming with me, will you not, Erestor?" Elrond said carefully.

Erestor sighed. "I have little choice at this point, mel-nín. Believe me when i say that i did not at all mind helping Faramir in Minas Tirith, but it was there i truly realized that it is no longer our time and i began to feel it more than ever. You know about Éowyn and her little girl..." Erestor swallowed a lump in his throat. "I could not help them, i had not felt that powerless since that accursed Balrog took Glorfindel down with it. No, i can no longer stay upon these shores. I need to go home."

"I am glad that you shall accompany me," Elrond said as a means to temporarily circumvent the point he knew Erestor was thinking on. "My mother-in-law shall being joining us and i shall be very grateful to have you there to keep me sensible on that long ride west. I did not exactly inherit my father's love for sailing."

Erestor only nodded as though he had not even heard that Galadriel would be sailing at the same time they would. Elrond noticed and his heart went out to his most trusted advisor and dearest friend.

"I have heard that Glorfindel intends to remain here some while longer," Elrond said casually.

"Of course he does, Elrond," Erestor said sadly. "He is older than both of us, yet has as much vigor as the twins. In this last year i have often wondered if allowing myself to love him is not a mistake, we shall only be sundered yet again and -"

"You do not think he would leave here for you?" Elrond cut in.

Erestor shook his head. "I can not speak for him, but i would not wish him to come with us when his heart may still be at ease here. There may well be a reason for him to remain."

"Well, Erestor, i can not say that i think you are wrong in that," Elrond said. "Yet, was it not you who often said that but a year of love is worth more than a lifetime of loneliness? You do believe that he will come West in time, do you not? Perhaps with Legolas..." Elrond trailed off, seeing now that Erestor did not need advice, only understanding. Knowing that these were the last weeks he would be spending with his son and grandson, Elrond understood and more.

ooo

On the other side of Imladris two young Elves were teaming up against the elder in a friendly fight. For years Glorfindel would spar with both twins at once, claiming that after having fought a Balrog, it just wouldn't be fair to take on only one of them at a time. The older, and better, the twins got, however, the more Glorfindel wished he'd amended that boast.

Their spars always included banter and compliments or corrections on form, but somehow the twins managed to steer their conversation toward more essential subject matter, such as the journey west. It was common knowledge that neither of the two intended to go.

"What about you?" Elrohir asked Glorfindel while putting forth a strong parry.

"No, not yet," Glorfindel said. "Not for a while." He disengaged Elrohir just in time to parry a strike from Elladan.

"Ere's going with Adar," Elladan mentioned to his brother,

"So i've heard," Elrohir replied, again parrying Glor' and wondering why his brother was getting all the thrusts.

"Won't you be lonely?" Elladan asked Glorfindel. Conversation during a spar never consisted of more than a few words at a time.

Glorfindel started to raise his sword to parry Elrohir's strike, but the younger Elf was faster and landed a gentle tap on his mentor's shoulder.

"Caution next time, Glor'... an orc won't be so generous," Elrohir said with a broad grin, particularly relishing the first time he'd ever gotten to use Glorfindel's favorite phrase against him. The twins raised their swords in salute and headed back to the house to get ready for supper.

Glorfindel still had not moved from trying to deflect that hit. Never had those two beaten him before. Oh, it had been extremely close a few times, but even when they cheated they'd never managed to outdo him. When his thought process caught up to him, he whispered, now to no one, "yes... very lonely."

ooo

Once again, Bilbo had nodded off mid-sentence, in actual fact, mid-word after dinner. It was sobering for Aragorn to see how quickly someone could age. His friend from years ago, from the time he was a ten year old boy terrorizing Imladris when the Dwarves came through on the quest for Erebor, to the same Hobbit he'd met as both were traveling back to Rivendell years later, and now to an aged little fellow who was beginning to forget things like where he'd left the sugar bowl that was sitting right in front of him. At first Aragorn thought he'd maybe just had a little too much of the Old Toby, perhaps he'd even been into the old winyard, but before long it had become too clear to Aragorn that the effect of Ring had finally worn off entirely and now Bilbo was just the second oldest Hobbit ever, on track to become the oldest, if he out-aged the Old Took. Aragorn had to wonder how Frodo would be doing and he wondered if he should not make a side trip to the Shire before they left Imladris.

Sighing, Aragorn rose and started back in to get ready for supper. Just then he saw Faramir coming up the walk toward Bilbo's porch, looking refreshed, if not a little rumpled, not that he'd ever been one to talk.

"You look rested," Aragorn said softly, not wanting to wake Bilbo.

Faramir nodded, also keeping the silence.

"Did you... nap in the garden, by chance?" Aragorn asked suspiciously.

Again Faramir only nodded, his father putting an arm around his shoulder and walking further toward the back entrance.

"Erestor never let me nap in the garden," Aragorn said with a slight pout. "Always said something about Men not being lawn ornaments, even if we did just about as much work as one."

"I suppose he revised that assessment after meeting me." Faramir chuckled and held out two acorns. "I was not napping under an oak, but these were beside me when i woke."

"Oh," Aragorn said dismissively, "Imladris is home to it's share of black squirrels." He knew the mark of his brothers anywhere.

"I tried the palantír this afternoon," Faramir said.

Aragorn nodded. "And?"

"Not very much. I thought i started to see something, but daeradar stopped me. There really is not a chance that this could be... dangerous somehow?" Faramir said, still unable to shake the knowledge of what the orbs had caused or at least played a key role in causing in Middle-earth not so long ago.

Aragorn shook his head. "There are only three stones and we have them all. It is extremely unlikely that the former Ithil stone survived the fall of Barad-dûr, i saw that with my own eyes and i do not believe that even a palantír could have come out of that. Adar will be taking the Elostirion stone and he will leave the Anor stone here as that stone needs a little... Elven medicine, shall we say. The Orthanc stone, of course, i intend to keep at home, that way we can communicate between the North Kingdom and South Kingdom a little easier, once things get established. But come, we are not here to think on business. Let us get ready for supper."

ooo

_Dashes are gone again for some odd reason, so "ooo" shall now be substituted. _

_linda: Now if we could only get him to confide in Aragorn about his fear of fire. _

_Elenhin: Polar Bears may be a bit like the Scouts, except that we never go through all the other stuff. It's basically into the water, out of the water, and out to Cathy and Frank's to eat and drink by the fire for the rest of the day. Funny how it all comes together, but Frank is a herpetologist (well, i think that's what it is) - he had a basement full of snakes, on purpose and in cages and all, all kinds, from the big, squeezy ones to littler poisonous ones, scorpions too. He has a python who is older than i am - used to roam around the house at all until he got stuck in a dish drain once. I have never met any of them, and i will definitely stick to keeping their horses as my friends. I have a really terrible fear of snakes. I have respect for anyone who can stand to be around them but i can't, at all. I'm not sure what's worst, snakes, needles, or dentists. I hate them all. Anyway, i'm leaning toward using a snake... someone else in this story has a fear of snakes just as bad as mine, though i won't say who just yet._

_As to books... i have no idea how i have as many as i do. They are everywhere. On my nightstand, on the shelves, on my desk. Everywhere. And i am possessive about my books and don't leave them anywhere else in the house. There isa race between my books, CDs, and clothes to see which can take over this room first. Honestly, though, the clothes are winning. _


	53. Sing a New Song

Minas Tirith

"What business you have with young Lord Belthil will simply have to wait, my Lord. I can not simply enter the royal family's private quarters and say that you await without an audience!" Guards of the Citadel were nothing if not insistent, and loyal.

"_Lord_ Belthil, now is it? When he came here he was of no higher rank than you," argued ex-councilor Gwaithir.

"Lord Belthil remains a part of the Citadel Guard, my Lord. He is also a member of the King's Council, and if i am correct, it so happens that he took _your_ place as the Council's military advisor," said the guard in a completely unassuming tone.

"That should outrage you as much as it does me! Who ever heard of a Citadel Guard and common soldier of no more than two score years sitting on the Council!" Gwaithir blustered on.

The guard was not so simple to dissuade though. "No, sir. In fact i am glad to have a comrade who has the King's ear, my wife and children no longer starve during the winter months now with His and Her Majesties and Steward Faramir in reign."

"Damn you! They say a man must be at the height of fitness to achieve your position, but they accept the blind of brain into the Citadel _Guard._ It seems to have slipped your mind, but i _am_ your superior and i demand that you either leave me pass or fetch that young upstart here, immediately!" Gwaithir roared.

"Is that not always the difficulty with Men? Always are they in such haste," mused a crystal-clear voice from behind Gwaithir. "Do you not agree Gimli?"

The stout dwarf nodded somewhat menacingly, standing with a rather defensive posture.

"And always they think themselves superior...," Legolas said, moving to stand in front of Gwaithir and standing frighteningly close to him. "Why _is_ that, Gwaithir?"

Gwaithir started to take a step back but found himself hemmed in by Gimli, who he bumped into and from whom received a growling grunt as a greeting.

"Is this man giving you trouble?" Legolas asked the guard.

"He wants to speak with Lord Belthil, my Lord, but he is in the King's quarters with the Queen for she gave the nurse the day off," he explained.

"Ah, he is looking after the Steward's son. Is that reason enough for you to go away now, ex-counselor?" Legolas, turning again to Gwaithir, asked in his most courteous tone.

Gwaithir said nothing, and it was hard to tell if his silence was a product of fear or outrage.

"That would be two answers you are in debt to me, Gwaithir...," Legolas "reminded."

"I did not come here to answer your questions, Elf! I came to tal-"

Gwaithir's retort was cut short by Legolas pinning him to the wall by his neck. "What business could you have here in the Citadel now that the new Council is in term? Look, yet another answer you owe me... Men are terrible about repaying debts. Ai, i suppose Aragorn might let you go live in Ered Nimrais, where the last oath-breakers used to dwell."

"No good, Legolas," quipped the Dwarf. "That's the Paths of the Dead... this one is still alive."

"A minor, temporary inconvenience, Gimli," Legolas said wearing a predatory smile, not taking his eyes off Gwaithir. "Aragorn really does not like you very much, you know? I must say, it is not easy to get on his bad side, but when you do..."

"We'll take things from here, laddie," Gimli said to the guard. "Go on and have some supper. Have some ale on my tab!" The man was looking a smidge afraid himself and happily accepted the Dwarf's generosity.

"Who are you to order the Guards of the Citadel, Dwarf!" Gwaithir squawked, too conceited to realize that it was quite in his best interests to be silent.

"That is my friend," Legolas said, tightening his hold. "As i was saying, Aragorn really does not like you. As for me, i do not _trust_ you."

Another two guards came quickly to corridor after seeing their comrade hurrying away. "Is there some trouble here, Prince Legolas? Good evening, Master Gimli," one said. The Guards of the Citadel had gotten to be rather friendly with Gimli as he was generous in sharing his account with them at several of Minas Tirith's taverns and the life of the party when he would occasionally join them.

Legolas smiled serenely. "No trouble at all here, not anymore. Is that not correct, Gwaithir?" The smile remained but Legolas's keen eyes pierced deeply into Gwaithir's.

The ex-Councilor quickly nodded, hoping the guards would just leave, he was already thoroughly humiliated. They did not. Legolas then eased his grip on him and let him go back the way he came. Gwaithir had not taken more than three hurried steps though, when Legolas called out.

"Oh, i nearly forgot, Gwaithir! Since i have not seen you at Council lately, for obvious reasons, i have kept this letter with me until i should happen to come across you elsewhere. I was asked to keep it extremely confidential." Legolas handed the parchment to Gwaithir who grabbed it away. "Lord Glorfindel gave it to me to deliver to you just before he left. What was it he said? It was so poetic... 'The curse of the Immortal is the gift of the Mortal, that my 'sentiments' might suffer to die when he does.'" The two guards standing by were hard pressed to keep from bursting out in laughter.

Gwaithir turned the most deep shade of crimson after reading just the first two lines of Glorfindel's note. "Lies! These are lies!" he cried, thrusting the letter back at Legolas. "Burn it, Elf!"

Legolas took a threatening step closer to Gwaithir. "Do i look like a Wizard who can conjure fire? Or perhaps Steward Denethor, who burnt anything that did not please him? So and alas... Glorfindel said you would say that they were only lies."

Gwaithir spun around to eye the two Citadel guards. "You do not think for a moment that _i_..."

The elder of the two guards spoke. "Actually, occasionally i do think for a moment, sometimes two moments. Of course at this moment, all i am thinking is that you do not have leave from anyone in authority to be in the Citadel, sir."

"So, if you will just come with us...," said the other, linking his arm with Gwaithir's and leading him away.

"This is getting too easy," Legolas sighed.

"I agree, you're getting to be useless, Elf!" Gimli said. "Let's head down to the Merry Widow, we never did finish that drinking contest from last week."

"Oh, it was finished. Only, you finished early," Legolas said with a smirk. "I think it would be more wise if we go and have a word with Belthil about this Gwaithir character. Perhaps Arwen will let you hold Elboron."

Gimli groaned, tucking his beard into his shirt.

ooo

Imladris

That evening after supper everyone retired to the Hall once again. Finally now at the end of the days of the Eldar in Arda the Hall of Fire was in it's glory. It was likely that once Elrond sailed to the West the fireplace would only be lit in the winter months, and then only if some Mortal guest was about. But still, at least in these days there was still some cheer left to be shared.

The soft chatter circulated for a while, sounding more like wind in the reeds than the chatter of Mortal halls which sounded more like an avalanche. Aragorn was curious as to just how Glorfindel had "taken care of" Gwaithir as he had mentioned doing earlier that day. Glorfindel told him and Faramir about the sultry letter he wrote and left in Legolas's keeping to be used at a strategic moment.

"In all honesty, sultry doesn't describe it. Had i used any of that material in our little competition earlier, i would still be the reigning champion," Glorfindel said, sprawled out gracefully on a chaise, his head in Erestor's lap.

"Exactly how 'sultry' did you get, _mela_?" his raven-haired Noldo enquired.

"Remember the letter i left for you the night we got back here?" Glorfindel said. "That, only with a different name."

Elrond was still having difficulty getting used to the fact that what he had tried to do for centuries, namely getting Erestor and Glorfindel together in a relationship, was actually happening and working right in front of him. After all these years, it almost seemed like a wrinkle in the fabric of Imladris, but upon closer inspection it was really a very perfected and complicated pleat.

"And who is the reigning champion?" Erestor asked of the contest that he, Elrond, and Faramir had absconded from earlier that day after lunch.

"Elrohir...," Glorfindel muttered, pouting.

The named twin just grinned. "You blushed before me, Glor', not my fault."

"Right, but cheating at this afternoon's spar was just greedy of you," Glorfindel said.

Elrohir just rolled his eyes. "Believe whatever heals your wounded pride... but be glad that is all that is wounded," he said, again using one of Glorfindel's favorite axioms on him.

Erestor was patiently unbraiding Glor's hair so that he could run his fingers through it and just that made Glorfindel feel a million times better. "Let us have a song," he suggested. "I've not lead a chorus in years! Remember that song we sang the night Thorin's troupe came in?"

It was telling of how late the years had grown when Aragorn was the only one present who remembered that night. The twins had been off on patrol and Elrond and Erestor were in a state of panic trying to get the Last Homely House in some kind of condition that might provide some kind of comfort to a group of thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit. Nursery furniture would suffice for the Hobbit, but would it be strong enough for the Dwarves? It fell to Glorfindel to entertain young Estel and so it ended up that the boy was sitting on a tree branch with him and a dozen other Elves all singing a ridiculous song of "welcome" to the wandering group.

"Let me see if i can not remember the whole thing," Glorfindel mused.

"No!" Erestor cried, immediately calming himself. "What i mean to say is you should not overwork your voice or tax your memory. Just rest tonight, mela," Erestor said soothingly.

"Well, it's either me or Lindir, _mela_," Glorfindel said, having a good idea of why Erestor was not keen on hearing him sing. He'd made it rather clear that night after the Dwarves had been accommodated that he did not think that their song was exactly a fitting welcome to Thorin Oakenshield. "I still do not see what is the matter with 'trill-lil-lil-lolly,' at least it's not 'hey ho merry dol' and 'ring-a-dong-a-dillo'" Glorfindel said sullenly.

"Actually," Erestor said, utterly ignoring his lover's nonsense, "i was rather hoping that we might hear something new to Imladris. Perhaps a song from Gondor, Faramir?"

"Me? No, i couldn't, Erestor... i don't -" Faramir protested, suddenly finding himself caught unawares.

"I have seen some of the songs you have penned. Come, if we enjoy Bilbo's songs we will enjoy yours," Glorfindel encouraged.

"You have inherited your father's voice, let us hear what you have," Erestor said, knowing how proud it made Faramir feel to be compared to his father.

Blushing slightly, Faramir consented. "There is one song that might be appropriate here. It is not glad, though it is hopeful, even if it is song of the War. Well, much of what i will sing i did not see, but others did... Master Lindir, might a borrow your lyre?" Taking up the instrument and quickly getting a feel for this particular one, Faramir began softly:

_"So here we stand between the gates  
Upon the dawn the eagle waits  
His tallons shine like daggers  
On the wings of revolution  
In pain the madman staggers  
But there is no solution_

_Another sword upon a throne  
But now the jester laughs alone_

_Beneath this cloak of treason  
Appears a thousand faces  
The truth must stand to reason  
For those who's heart it chases_

_Beyond the compass, where the lords assemble_

_Beyond the world of mortal man  
Within this sanctuary the spectre begins to tremble  
They lay his spear upon the plan_

_On a sea of diamonds lies a ship of glass  
Through the mist the torches pass_

_Their banners fly in splendour  
The ghosts of night decended  
With grace their souls surrender  
The seal must be defended_

_Still the dragons reign supreme  
Breathing fire till we scream  
They leave us nothing but our dreams_

_No shield can save us ..._

_Stand clear, there's storm above  
And there is something left to fear  
All speed, before the blade is drawn  
And there is blood upon the seed_

_Let no one yield we're on the field  
Where deeds eclipse the sun  
Where the brave are told on a thread of gold  
The tapestry is spun  
As they speak of dreams their amour gleams  
There's calm before the storm  
But all can see their destiny  
The bishop takes the pawn_

_In the sky the arrows fly  
Each one to it's mark  
Defend the true lead us through  
This voyage in the dark  
Make us strong you know right from wrong  
Teach us what it's worth  
For every heart that aches is what it takes  
To save our mother earth_

_Lay your life upon the line  
It's death for glory every time  
You give up yours and I'll keep mine_

_No shield can save us ..._

_So here we stand between the gates  
Upon the dawn the eagle waits  
His tallons shine like daggers  
On the wings of a revolution  
In the pain the madman staggers  
But there is no solution_

_Still the dragons reign supreme  
Breathing fire till we scream  
They leave us nothing but our dreams_

_No shield can save us ..."_

Faramir ended as softly as he began and quickly passed the instrument back to Lindir, who scarcely came back to his senses enough to accept it. The only Elf present who had ever expected such talent from this young Man of Gondor was Elrond himself, all the others were duly impressed and gave an ovation most appreciatively. Faramir's song left them much to ponder and did indeed give them a sense of hope for the race of Men, that there were some who would not go to war willingly for any reason, but would still be willing to die for the right reason. Though Faramir would deny it, he did understand more about why men became soldiers than he let on; he himself had done so, for the right reasons.

ooo

_The song used here is The Miracle by Emerson, Lake, and Powell (ugh... i think i am giving away my age now!) Long have i avoided the temptation to use a song in a fic as i have seen how horribly awry that usually goes, but... this is one that, i think, actually makes sense!_

_flowerbee: More to catch up on. Hope it makes you happy!_

_linda: Poor Faramir, the one who needs the sleep the most, too! Leave it to Glor'. At least he got his rest though. I can't imagine how draining a palantir must be to use... probably almost as bad a computer._

_Elenhin: Don't you just love the twins! I can promise that they will keep twin sets of eyes on both Aragorn and Faramir._

_A spirit stove in a canoe? But didn't you hear about the man who was rowing a kayak and got cold out there in the icy northern waters, so lit a fire in the boat. The boat, of course, burnt up, proving that you can't have your kayak and heat it too. I will immediately beg forgiveness for such a truly terrible pun. Anyway, i have been in a canoe on a few occasions. Once in a lake, once in a river. I was a lot more comfortable in the river than in the lake. In the lake i just kept feeling like we were going to tip the whole time. At least the river kept us moving along pretty well and steering around rocks, and thus distracted. _

_I shall definitelycheck out David Eddings some time. Sounds very entertaining. What are some particular titles i should look for?_


	54. Many Partings

By the end of their first week in Rivendell, Faramir no longer broke out in a cold sweat every time a flame danced before his eyes. He began to realize that in this place, nothing would harm him, that here there was only nurturing and encouragement. He tried the palantír a couple more times, under Elrond's guidance, and soon images began to come to him quicker and clearer. Though he still could not see far, only the borders of Gondor, it would not be long before his will would be sufficient to focus on the White City. Using the seeing stone was becoming less and less tiring to him as well, though his only motivation for continuing to learn to control it was that he might at least be able to look in on his little son now and then while they were here.

Aragorn and Faramir had never been closer as father and son than they were here in Imladris. Finally, both had a chance to unwind at the same time, which was all but against the law in Minas Tirith. Imladris had become home to both of them, for Aragorn it was the second time. Father and son had spent time together talking and laughing, sharing knowledge and life experiences, catching up on the time they had missed being together; all without once hearing of supplies, requisitions, petitions, land grants, judgments, or any such administrative things. Here they could simply be.

Here in this place, however, time was deceitful. When one morning Aragorn woke with the sun in his eyes, he knew it was the first sign of summer's end and autumn's beginning. The days were still warm as ever though and Aragorn managed to convince himself that perhaps he had just slept in that day. That night, however, Elrond found his son sitting on the porch stairs smoking his pipe.

When he saw his father come to rest beside him, Aragorn starting to put out his pipe, but Elrond stopped him. "Leave it, Estel. Between Gandalf and Bilbo, i have grown hardened to it. I personally think Athelas a much better choice, but after all, i do have my own little indulgences. I wonder if one can procure Dorwinion wine in Eressëa...?" he mused.

Aragorn had started to crack a smile at that, but all traces of gladness flagged in the face of that nearly full moon. The moon had just passed its peak the night they'd arrived, and he was sure that there had been another full moon in the course of their stay, thus meaning that in a few days the two month time limit he'd set would be expired.

Elrond seemed to know instinctively what was plaguing Aragorn's mind. "This is not an ending, ion-nín... it is a beginning, for both of us."

"You have to go?" Aragorn muttered, his head bent, trying to deny how the imminent parting pained him so.

Elrond touched his cheek gently, not failing to note the tiny trails of wetness there. "Were i not so weary as i am, i still do not think that it would be advisable for me to remain here. This is _your_ time, my son, my Estel."

"But how can i do this without your guidance?" he begged.

"You have had more of my guidance than you should ever make use of. I trust you to make your own decisions. Estel-nín, if i was not sure that you could do this i would not leave here."

"Then how can i convince you that i can not do it? I already had to lose one father in my life, why two? Why my _real_ father?" Aragorn said in a choked whisper.

"Estel, come, you know that i am not -"

"Of course i know, adar... but who was it who raised me and protected me and encouraged me and made me feel worthy of love when i did not?"

Elrond sighed and glanced away, looking slightly ashamed of himself. "Aye, and who was it who treated you unfairly when you reached maturity? Can you forgive me for that?"

"Adar...," Aragorn and his father embraced tightly, the Mortal burying his face against the Immortal's shoulder.

"My child," Elrond whispered. "Only yesterday i held you in your fear of a storm and hoped that the day you would be defending Gondor would be long off. Here we are and that time has come and gone quicker than even i had feared."

"What will i do without you?" Aragorn pressed pleadingly.

Elrond smiled bitterly. "Alas that you have to suffer this parting as much as i do! You now face what all Mortal Men must face... the only Men who do not lose their fathers are those who go before them. You must rest now, though, Estel. Do not think on your parting for a few days yet, i still need a little more time with my son and grandson as well, you know."

"I do not intend to lose you, adar... not in my heart," Aragorn said, beginning to sound a little drowsy as he leaned against Elrond.

"That is well. Then nor shall i ever lose you, my child," Elrond said, cradling his son and letting him find rest and reassurance.

It had not been long before Elrond heard footsteps behind them. He needed not turn to know that Faramir had come to look for his father. Elrond gestured for Faramir to come sit by his free side and took the other Man under his arm as well, thus balancing Aragorn's weight.

Several more days passed before anyone else mentioned the approaching departure of Aragorn and Faramir. Everyone had grown so accustomed to having Mortal "children" around again that it would be saddening when they were gone again. It all seemed so final, as though now everyone was only waiting for the final journey to the Havens. There was only one single year left upon Arda for most of the Elves who still lingered in Rivendell. For the rest, it meant only one single year left with their friends and family; the twins and Glorfindel weren't the only ones who intended to stay around a while longer.

When the sun rose on the appointed day, the travelers seemed resigned at best. They broke fast at Elrond's table together, trying to compose themselves enough for goodbyes while someone went to fetch their horses and packed bags. When Elrond asked Aragorn to join him aside for a few moments, Glorfindel took the opportunity to produce the three vials he intended to gift Faramir. "These oils will help you stay relaxed and rejuvenated. I've written an instruction on their use..." Was Faramir mistaken or was the legendary Balrog slayer getting choked up over this?

Erestor leaned in, passing a book to Faramir. "The book is for your son, what's inside is for you both," the ordinarily sharp advisor said softly. Faramir opened the book to find a quill with a gleaming nib. "It's mithril. The ink will not stain it and it will never wear down. I've been using it since the day i came to Imladris."

Faramir was doing all he could to repress the tears, but reminded himself of where he was and allowed them to take their effect. "Thank you... both of you. I can not tell you what you have both meant to me. Erestor, all that you have done for the Office of the Steward - i just have no proper way of thanking you. And Glor', you kept your thoughts on my well being when i had no mind to. I might not still be here if not for you. I give you my word, you shall both be remembered, in the kindliest light history may shed."

At that Erestor grinned. "Some people have no need of more historical remembrance," he said with a keen eye upon his lover. "Others are just as happy to be forgotten in a shadow."

"I can not say that i shall ever forget you, certainly neither of you," Faramir said, eliciting a hug from both Elves.

"Just do not tell history that i ever weakened and admitted my love for this... garish reprobate," Erestor said, trying to sound stern.

"I shall do my all to see to it that your reputation remains sound, Master Erestor," Faramir said with the same degree of solemnity.

"Faramir...," Erestor said, changing the topic. "Mornië and her foal are yours. Take care of them for me. And if you can, send me word about the little one. I am very interested to know what his lineage is."

Faramir nodded. "They will have the best of care, and i will send word as soon as the little one arrives. I too am interested. I was not aware that there were any available studs in the stables at the time."

Glorfindel suddenly looked as though he had taken a keen interest in the ceiling of the Hall. "If the pony is both dark and fair... would you call him Asfamor, perhaps Mornaloth?"

"I knew Asfaloth was behind it! Like rider, like horse, so it always goes!" Erestor accused.

Elrond had asked Aragorn to go down to the healing chambers with him, whereupon entering the man found the majority of Elrond's herbals packed very carefully into saddlebags.

"Adar... i can not take these all..." Aragorn protested.

"You can," Elrond said, ushering him to the window overlooking the courtyard. "Two riding horses and one pack horse, that should be sufficient. There is also food adequate for travel that will be packed after these. You will have much more use of these now than i will again, and frankly, after seeing what you call the Houses of Healing, i think you are going to be in need of these.

"You taught me everything, father," Aragorn whispered, only now allowing himself to face once again the fact that he was departing from his father and not likely to see him ever again.

"Then heed me now, my son," Elrond said holding his Estel, "I have said once already, this is not an ending, but a beginning." Elrond pressed two fingers to his lips then pressed them over Aragorn's heart, a gesture they had used to indicate the bond between them since just after Aragorn first came to Imladris. "Come, your own son needs you now, too."

"Ready?" Aragorn asked simply of his son when he got back to the Hall. Faramir shook his head but rose anyway, Glor' and Ere' following them out. The twins were already there and had everything ready for them. Aragorn turned to embrace his father yet again; it was hard to tell who had the strongest hold on whom. "Adar... i love you," Aragorn said and even Erestor got teary-eyed.

"_Le melin, ion-nín. Sidh, Estel_. I am so very proud of all that you have become, and all that you yet may be," Elrond said softly. "Be well, my son," Elrond blessed as he allowed Aragorn to slowly pull back.

"Estel! You are not going anywhere without your cloak!" Erestor said firmly, holding two garments. "The same for you, Faramir." As he settled the mantle over Aragorn's shoulders he pulled him into a tight hug.

"I will miss your subtlety greatest, Erestor," Aragorn said sincerely. "Minas Tirith will not be the same without you around and i have no way of thanking you for the help you offered us."

"You needn't thank me for anything child, just you go on and live well and never stop learning and growing. And you, Faramir, come here," Erestor said, also embracing the younger man.

"Thank you again, Erestor. I shall surely miss you," Faramir said.

"As i have already said, thank me not. If you would do me well, see that your young namesake continues to learn. I started to teach him to read and write, you are more than qualified to continue that."

Faramir nodded. "What language?" he asked.

Erestor grinned. "How about all of them? That should keep both of you out of trouble for a while."

"Challenge accepted, Master Erestor," Faramir said with his own slightly sad grin.

"Go on, you two, get out of here and back home!" Erestor said, trying to hide his tears and thankful for Glorfindel's strong arms around him.

Moving back to their horses, Elrohir advised them on where everything was packed so that they wouldn't have to rummage about and disturb the order of things. "Do i not get a farewell from my dearest brothers?" Aragorn asked, taking the lead reign of the pack horse from Elrohir.

"No, you do not," Elrohir said.

"You think we are going to waste all of these emotions on you when we will be around to drop into your city anytime?" Elladan added.

"As far as this particular journey of yours goes... ride carefully is all we really have to say to you," said Elrohir nonchalantly.

"I guess the same goes for you, Glor'?" Aragorn said.

The Vanya shrugged and nodded. "If i get bored here you may expect an extended visit from me," he said with an idiotic grin, though there was a sadness in his eyes.

A quiet fell over the group assembled and both Aragorn and Faramir knew that if they stayed another moment they would stay at least another month. Father and son exchanged glances, nodded, and were off, albeit with heavy hearts.

ooo

_Le melin, ion-nín. Sidh, Estel. - I love you, my son. Peace, Estel._

_I thought this chapter was never going to get written! It took me nearly a week. Oh well, here it is now, and more to come, soon i hope. When i start to really get down to the end of a story the chapters get longer and harder to write. Still, i hope everyone is happy with it so far._

_Thanks to all of you who reviewed Separate Chaos. More to come on that, too. _

_linda: We shall see what trouble there might be awaiting in the Citadel... or elsewhere in the wild._

_Elenhin: Liked the letter? I was going to write the contents, but... the ratings for stories only go up to R. I'm glad you thought the song fit well into the story. I definitely did, but i've always shied away from using songs too much in stories, at least ones that weren't in the original stories anyway. And yes, the twins are definitely protective, we shall see more of them later. Sounds like you know a lot more about canoeing than i do. I can maneuver one fairly well, though as i say i prefer rivers to lakes. In a lake, the only thing i know for sure is don't move too much, if you move at all._


	55. A Bite in the Dark

Once out of Imladris and understanding some goodbyes as final, Aragorn and Faramir rode along quietly, now thinking of those they parted from. But soon their thoughts turned instead to home and those who awaited their return. With Elrond's instruction on safe palantír use, Faramir, on several occasions, had been able to see glimpses of his little one.

Elboron looked to be growing like a happy little weed, oftentimes nestled in his "grandma's" arms or "assisting" his elder cousin with some administrative duty. In the latter case it definitely seemed that Elboron's main quality was keeping Belthil awake at the Steward's desk when he started to drowse off after coming in fresh off of Guard duty. A good tug on his hair usually did wonders for his state of wakefulness. It eased Faramir's heart to know that his little boy was so well cared for, but it also made him wish for him all the more.

As for Aragorn, he was simply looking forward to getting back to his wife. As comfortable as Imladris was, there had been nights when he found it difficult to slip into sleep without his beloved beside him. Nights had not yet grown very cool as they started home, so sleeping under the stars was still an option to the two travelers. Out of the old Ranger's habit, they slept back-to-back, each with his sword at hand through the night.

On their third night they had an early dinner and took to sleep as the sun was only just disappeared into the West. Rain clouds had been starting to build from the south and they decided to break early in case that weather was headed their way. It would be a lot easier to get up in the wee hours and ride in the rain than it would be to attempt to sleep in it. Night was exceptionally warm, thanks to the cloud cover overhead and both had discarded cloaks and tunics, bedding down in just shirts and leggings.

It was nearly midnight when Aragorn instinctively stirred from his sleep. For a moment he lay still in the dark, listening. Just as he started to relax again, convincing himself that the south wind was playing tricks on him, he heard a slight hissing sound that made his blood run cold. It was coming from over by Faramir, so maybe it was just his son's breathing, but he heard it again and knew that sound too well to mistake it for any human breathing.

Aragorn turned slowly, almost imperceptibly (he hoped) toward Faramir. He laid a hand on his son's back and whispered, "Faramir, wake up but do not move."

Faramir moaned in his sleep. He cracked one eye open groggily. "Ada, c'mon, it's not morning. Doesn't feel like rain. Lemme sleep."

"Faramir, just stay still!" Aragorn hissed. He groped for his sheathed knife. He could not miss with this strike and yet he could not see his target in this darkness and he was shaking like a brittle autumn leaf in a gale-force wind. Just as he was pushing himself upright and listening intently for where his knife would need to fall, a cloud parted, allowing a bright light to fall through from the waning moon.

Aragorn seized the opportunity and saw his target - his blood turned to ice looking at his foe, it was exactly what he'd feared, only more. The creature had sensed his tension and had drawn itself up, it too was ready to strike. For a second Aragorn stopped thinking, fright overriding all of his other well-honed senses. The thing started to draw back, breaking the deer-dance they were locked in. It was going to attempt the first strike. Suddenly the precious moonlight was gone again and all Aragorn knew was that Faramir was going to be in the line of danger. He threw himself over his drowsing son, pushing him out of the way.

Time seemed to freeze between Aragorn making his move to protect Faramir and the time he felt the fangs sink into his calf. In an instant Faramir was wide awake, hearing his father's howl of pain. "Kill it! Kill it!" he half-begged, half-ordered with some degree of difficulty. Faramir moved purely on instinct to take up the knife his father had dropped. "My leg, left!" Aragorn panted and Faramir struck the knife into whatever had a bite on his father, he knew not what. "Get it off me! Valar!" whimpered the man who had spent more years alone in the wilderness than anyone cared to count.

Faramir tried to soothe his father. Never had he seen his so agitated. It wasn't until he felt the cold scales attached to the pair of fangs imbedded in his father's leg that he understood. Faramir knew enough about how to handle snakebites and insisted that his father calm down at once. Panic would only speed up the heart rate and spread the poison faster. It wasn't until he lit a fire (not without a little trepidation of his own still) that he saw the offending fiend and realized that he was not in the least familiar with that particular type of serpent and he had no notion of it's capabilities.

"Father, what is this?" he asked. "How do i need to treat -?" The sight of his father in a state of shock, trembling convulsively, took all the nerve Faramir had. He could have dealt with the bite itself, but he had no idea what to do about the poison and he had never seen a reaction like this to a bite before. "Father? Father, please! I don't know what to do to help you. Don't shake... it'll spread. Please... help me!"

There was no answer from Aragorn and Faramir was wrapped tightly around his father, at least to ease the trembling, but also because he was afraid. "Far'... cut...," Aragorn murmured before passing out cold. Faramir understood immediately and cleansed a paring knife in the flames before making a cut over the wound and sucking out the poison as much as he could. Now he cursed himself for not thinking to do that first off and tore off a strip from his shirt to tie off just above the bite.

Through it all, Faramir had remained mostly calm. He'd had a lot more than his share of run-ins with venom and come out well enough. But when the rain clouds overhead broke, so too did Faramir's composure. He knew he could do not more to help his father, he had never encountered this reaction before, and his father had not woken despite Faramir calling him. The rain was coming down hard and heavy and it was not what a person in shock needed. The fire had been doused and it was the first time in months that Faramir truly wished it had not been.

Faramir spread both of their cloaks over Aragorn and wondered if he was going to lose his father here, alone, in unfamiliar land. He wondered if he could somehow find his way back to Rivendell in time to get help. He began to feel absolutely helpless and despondent as he tried to lift his father, trying not to jostle him too much. If he could just get him onto Roheryn... It wasn't working and eventually Faramir gave up, held his father tightly, and wept.

Faramir wondered if he accidentally ingested that poison and was going delusional himself when he heard the light sound of jingling bells. Madness or not, though, he called out desperately for help. He sensed the light of the two riders before actually seeing them and rejoiced with renewed and wholly unexpected hope when Glorfindel and Gandalf rode into the clearing.

"Valar! He was right," Glorfindel said to Gandalf as knelt beside Aragorn. "I've got to get him back there immediately." The Vanya gently lifted Aragorn and Gandalf held him until Glorfindel remounted, then he took off back the way they came without so much as glancing at Faramir.

"Come, Faramir," Gandalf said, wrapping his own cloak around the trembling and afraid young man.

Faramir now felt that he was the one in shock as his old friend helped him up into his saddle and took Roheryn and the pack horse to be lead back to Rivendell. "Mithrandir, how did you know -? Will my father survive?" he asked numbly, not entirely wanting to know.

"I can answer neither question, my lad," Gandalf said carefully, making sure to ride close to Faramir. "It was Elrond who sent us after the two of you. And as to your second question... Well, Frodo pulled through after being stabbed by the Witch-king, and you yourself survived the Black Breath... so - well, i... i hope."

ooo

_Just as a disclaimer - i really don't know anything technical about treating snake bites. My advice is to stay very far away from snakes. I'm just a lowly writer and secretary who knows a little about a lot of things, enough to impress people with a casual remark at a party, but i don't go around saving lives._

_Elenhin: I detest smoke too, most especially tobacco smoke. I was once told by a flattering young gentleman that smoke always gravitates toward beauty. Well, that is partially true :) Actually, it has something to do with air circulation. If there is no wind and you stand away from the smoke, it will come back toward you in a moment. Move again, and it will follow you. It just has something to do with air currents, so you can't really escape it anyway._

_linda: Yes, the parting was hard... now we will see what the temporary reunion will be like._


	56. There and Back Again

Glorfindel had not stopped riding for a day and a half when Asfaloth finally charged up the path and over the bridge. Elrond had been pacing the courtyard all day. The finest healer in Middle-earth never had very good composure when it came to his own children. Elrond took his precious son into his arms at once, quickly noting that the slight pressure on Aragorn's fingernail still had the normal reaction. He took him quickly to the healing chambers and set to work.

It was in the middle of the night when Gandalf and Faramir returned. Unfortunately, the scene was much the same as when Glorfindel had ridden in, for Gandalf was holding onto Faramir as he impelled Shadowfax on. The other three horses were left to make their way to Rivendell as Gandalf was confident that they would have no trouble doing so. It was Faramir who concerned him most at the moment.

Not three hours after Glorfindel charged off with Aragorn did Faramir begin to show similar symptoms. It was when Faramir fell directly off of Aranro, his horse, that Gandalf knew the younger Ranger was also at risk.

Elrond was still wide awake, sitting by his son when Gandalf brought Faramir in. Elrond looked weary as he checked Faramir over and Glorfindel strongly ordered that Elrond go fix himself a cup of tea, claiming that he was only impeding progress the way he was behaving. The outburst earned Glorfindel a pair of glares - one weak one from Elrond and another, stronger, one from Erestor, who mostly objected to the disturbance, even if he did agree and usher Elrond out of the room to get some rest.

"They will be fine, Mithrandir," Glorfindel calmly answered the question which needed not be spoken, working with various vials and mixtures. "Elrond just can not handle seeing these things in his loved ones. It was about 200 years ago, a Man stumbled to our borders and i brought him in here. His bite was a lot more poisonous, and we had no idea how long he'd been wandering around before getting here. He did not pull through and Elrond blamed himself. And now, because it just so happens to be these two, he's in a state. This venom is bad enough, i grant you that, but these two have survived almost more than i did. The trouble is less the venom than the reaction; besides having a terrible fear of snakes, Estel happens to be overly sensitive to some of them as well. It's looks like Faramir inherited the same allergic reaction. All we have to do is keep the body from acknowledging the allergy with _this_," he said holding up a mixture, "and they will be fine. The only stipulation is that it needs to be administered once an hour until the moon sets again, so it looks like it is just you and me tonight my dear, Balrog-slaying comrade. Tell me again how you killed yours?"

It was several hours after dawn when Gandalf was attempting to give the remedy to Aragorn that he started to awaken. "Well, it's about time for you to be alert again, young King," Gandalf said with great relief.

'Young indeed,' Aragorn thought huffily. With 89 years of life behind him, he personally doubted that he could be called young, yet Gandalf was constant. And how good had it felt to hear him referred to as "young Master Gandalf" by a certain walking, talking tree. Of course, those 89 years of wisdom did not permit him to say any of this aloud, instead he just croaked out a pitiful "where am i?" He truly wasn't sure... if only his head would stop spinning.

"Where are you? After all this time you do not recognize your home? You offend me!" Glorfindel said, looking over his shoulder at Aragorn as he was lifting a still unconscious Faramir upright to ingest the medicine.

Aragorn was starting to remember something about the last things that happened before he passed out. Suddenly he shuddered at the memory that he'd been fending off a rather nasty looking serpent. It was then that he also noticed that he was in a healing chamber, for as much time as he'd ended up spending in this particular room, he might have remembered it at once. He was still lightheaded though and turning to look over at Glorfindel made his head spin even more. He shut his eyes tightly until the spiraling feeling stopped, then he opened his eyes slowly, allowing them to focus gradually. He had to employ all of his restraint to keep from jumping up when he saw Faramir in the other bed. "What happened?" he demanded to know. "What happened to my son?"

"Calm down, Estel! If you make too much noise Erestor will come and glare at you, and i _know_ you do not want that..." It was Glorfindel's way of getting through life, to never acknowledge its seriousness. "Your son likely saved your life, that is what happened. You, the mighty Ranger-King, ended up taking a nasty bite, which could have been a lot easier to treat except that you Mortals have a weakness that allows you to magnify minor inconveniences into major problems by overreaction. As nearly as i can tell, Faramir probably sucked a good deal of the poison out of you, but likely as not he wound up getting a bit of it himself. He is fine and he will be up and doing soon, too. Now, were i you, i would lie down and relax. Your dearest adar will probably be coming to check on you before long and then you should have to deal with his coddling."

Aragorn chuckled and sighed. Gandalf had agreed to stay and so the two old friends talked for a while. Aragorn remembered throwing himself over Faramir and feeling the bite of the snake and begging Faramir for help, but everything after that was cloudy at best, missing mostly though. Gandalf had to admit that he was rather impressed with Aragorn. It was no secret in Imladris just how afraid of snakes Aragorn was. He was very small when he first saw one and tried to pick it up; unfortunately for him, the snake did not agree and bit his hand. That was when it was learned just how allergic he was to them.

"I was afraid and more, Gandalf," Aragorn recounted. "I was petrified. But when i realized that it wasn't going to bite me, but Faramir... i had to do something. I probably acted rashly and foolishly, but -"

Gandalf, as was his habit on occasion, cut Aragorn off. "Yes, you might have handled the situation so that you, too, remained out of harm's way, but there are times when there is not enough time to think out every avenue. I am rather proud of you for not letting fear get the best of you though. And, by the way, the best of you is by far your love for your son."

"No," Aragorn said softly, looking over. "The best of me _is_ my son."

It was late that night when Faramir began to stir to wakefulness. He felt weak and queasy, whimpering as he curled up on his side, wrapping his arms around him for comfort.

"There you are," Glorfindel said softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Miserable," Faramir muttered. "What happened?"

"Hush, just drink this and listen to me," the Vanya said, taking the warm cup of tea from Erestor who sat down beside him and putting it into Faramir's hand as he brushed back stray locks from the young man's forehead. "You will be feeling better soon, keep drinking that tea and concentrate on me. Your father is fine and so are you. You happened to ingest a little of that poison yourself, but i think you might have saved Estel's life. That poison was strong and the bite deep, but more than anything the two of you had an adverse reaction to the venom."

"Where is he?" Faramir whispered hoarsely. Glorfindel nodded toward Aragorn and Faramir turned his head to see his father in the next bed in a peaceful, natural sleep. "I wouldn't have had to save his life if he hadn't tried to save mine," Faramir said quietly.

Erestor smiled warmly. "Estel would give his life for you, Faramir. Actually, knowing him, i think giving his life for you might been an easier thought than taking a snake bite. Few are those who know how terribly he is afraid of them. He really loves you, your father."

Faramir could tell this was a difficult subject for Erestor and he was one who understood well. "Who was your father?" he asked sympathetically.

Erestor's voice held the tone of one who had not spoken of something, let alone thought of it, in many years. "My father fought at The Nirnaeth. That was when i lost faith in the race of Men, then and again when i heard they had caused the breaking of the world. That all changed the day i met your father, though. He could charm a Balrog. Well, that is all ancient history, though. Finish your tea and take some rest, child."

As Faramir lay back comfortably Erestor extinguished the candle on the night stand and left the healing chamber, only to be pulled into Glorfindel's arms. He almost resisted for a moment before allowing himself to melt into his lover's embrace.

Faramir couldn't help but snicker at hearing Glorfindel call Erestor his little raven, was that really the same cold, cunning councilor he'd heard so much about? Letting his mind wander, Faramir thought about his son. As much as he loved Imladris, more than any place he had ever seen, he really did not wish to be here under these circumstances, and he had started to miss his little boy unbearably, not to mention how difficult it would be to have to part from his Elven family all over again.

Just before letting himself fall to sleep, Faramir glanced over toward his father again. He started to notice that his eyes were open.

"Welcome back," Aragorn whispered. "You were out longer than i was."

"Adar... thank you does not adequately say it. I love you," Faramir said reaching across to his father's bed.

Aragorn grinned. "I you, ion-nín. Just remember, you do not owe me anything. I might not be here without you either, so i think we are even. What i dread is having to depart all over again. I scarcely got through it the first time."

Faramir smiled and his eyes would not stay open any longer, the tea must have started taking effect. Thus it was that Elrond found his son and grandson sleeping late into the morning, hand's still clasped between their two beds. The Elf-lord pondered the irony of fate that brought two ones so beloved to him only at the end of the days of the Eldar and how it was that, choices now made all around, he could now actually call all of his dearest children mortal.

And yet, after just a couple of day's bed rest, both father and son were feeling fit again. It was debated between them whether it would be best to leave again as soon as possible or to stay a little longer. Both agreed, though, that prolonging the inevitable would not help anyone. And so as soon as they were permitted out of bed they began to prepare to leave again. Goodbyes were said all around, again, and they all walked out to the courtyard.

This time, however, instead of two riding horses and a pack pony, there were four riding horses with the travel gear divided up evenly. There stood Roheryn and Aranro, and two sets of twins - one set roan and the other Peredhel.

"Come on, you two. You know our sister will not be happy if we are late for supper," Elladan said, jumping into the saddle in perfect synchronicity with his twin brother.

"Didn't think we'd let you back out there on your own, did you?" Elrohir said. "After Glorfy and Mithrandir had to drag you back here, we aren't letting you out of our sight."

"Oh good," Aragorn said sarcastically aside to Faramir, "we can make it to Rohan before they even notice we have left."

It was going to be an interesting journey home. That much was assured.

ooo

_linda: Aren't they dear? And anyway, at least there wasn't too much to worry about in the end._

_AM: Safe? When has it ever been safe with me in the author's seat?_

_Elenhin: All pit vipers sense heat, but their bites don't generally come with these symptoms, so i can't say what kind of snake they encountered. A speicies found only in Middle-earth, why not? Snakes in Middle-earth had been closely associated with Morgoth... not that that would be any foreshadowing for the next story or anything :) If i ever find a smoke turner i will be sure to pick one up. Sounds like a handy gadget._

_Anyway, as always, more to come. I am thinking about alternately updating this and A Separate Chaos since i seem to be getting a lot of interest in both. That might work well, as long as i don't accidently confuse the plot lines or something. Does anyone second the motion?_


	57. Double Trouble

Both Aragorn and Faramir were thankful for the presence of Elladan and Elrohir, it afforded them the ability to sleep nearly as comfortably as they had for two months in Imladris. In this way the journey from Imladris back to Edoras progressed a lot quicker than they'd expected, or at least it felt as though it was going quicker. As the saying was, "a rested Ranger is a happy Ranger." For many a year that phrase was considered a double-oxymoron.

Of course, the twins wouldn't want their little brother to get too complacent while traveling. Every so often, after Aragorn and Faramir had bedded down for the night with twins flanking them, Elrohir or Elladan would wait until Aragorn had just gotten into a peaceful sleep and then quietly, patiently one would begin hissing, growing steadily louder until Aragorn jumped to wakefulness in terror of that sound. That was usually when the hissing began to sound a lot more like poorly stifled laughter, and Aragorn would speak to neither twin the next day. Faramir had to wonder if they orchestrated their little practical joke with the knowledge that his father would not speak to them because of it; if they wanted peace and quiet on the road the next day, it was the perfect way to achieve it.

As it turned out, they had only been on the road for three weeks when they arrived in Rohan and so at Edoras. They were all greeted by Éomer and Lothíriel and sat down to supper together in the Golden Hall. Lothíriel was looking very pregnant and Faramir was surprised to even see her out of bed, let alone dining with them. She assured them, though, that she felt fine and still had another two months to go.

Though they had planned to spend two nights getting some proper rest and food in Edoras, seeing Lothíriel in her condition made Aragorn extremely anxious to get home to his own pregnant wife, and so they planned to take a good night's sleep and breakfast in Edoras before setting off again the next day.

Aragorn and Faramir were mercifully afforded a room separate from the twins, and so spared from any of their foolishness. It was one of those rare times that Faramir was thankful for the Mortal need of sleep, it must grow awfully boring for young Elves who sit awake all night with nothing to do but pull practical jokes on their sleeping companions. Aragorn lay down and fell into a blissful sleep, the thought of soon holding Arwen in his arms again giving him all the peace he needed to sleep deeply.

The next thing Aragorn knew, he was standing in the middle of some mass hysteria. Looking around, all he saw was men, warriors, in a state of total terror. He tried to find the source of this madness, but within a moment it made itself inescapably obvious. There before him stood the Dark Lord himself, just exactly as he had been depicted in all that Aragorn had seen and read from the Last Alliance - One Ring and all. Aragorn froze, horrified. It was over, then. Everyone had known that this was the most likely outcome, but... he'd convinced himself to think on hope so much that he was not prepared for this.

Thoughts flew through his mind: there was no point in trying, if Sauron had that Ring, it was over already - but surely he had to do something, fight to the bitter end; why had his father allowed a vulnerable Hobbit to take the task, it should have been cast into the Sea, or taken into the West - surely the Valar could have unmade it - and why had he himself allowed Frodo and Sam to go wandering off alone?

Questions of why then turned to thoughts of what would surely happen now. This army he stood with, all of his friends, would be killed effortlessly. The Shadow would then have free reign. What would it do first? Collect the three remaining rings? Narya was already here at hand, Nenya would be taken next and only Eru knew how Lorien would suffer for it. Aragorn thought that Vilya would be the hardest for Sauron to wrest, Elrond would put up an almighty fight, that was sure. But it would be taken, his father broken, and Arwen... Valar! Why had she not fled this accursed Middle-earth when she had the chance? Aragorn trembled to think that it was his fault, once again. Isildur might have been weak to not relinquish the Ring to the fires of Mt. Doom, but surely his false hope for the future had been weaker.

Anduril, nee Narsil, was swinging furiously, though Aragorn was not really aware that he was fighting, killing anything vile in his path. What path? Was he fleeing? If so, to what purpose? He had no knowledge, tears were openly streaming down his face as an orc's blade caught Legolas deep in the chest as he was rushing to aid Gimli, who fared no better than his Elven friend. Glancing up ahead his eyes were meet with the sight of his brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, struck down by a massive troll. The bright light that was Gandalf off to the right of his peripheral vision began to fade, actually, everything around him began to fade. He fell to his knees, no longer able to support the weight of his armor. There was a sharp pain in the back of his neck and he thought that he must have caught an arrow.

His last thought was meant to comfort him, this was the end, no more suffering, and soon it would be the same for everyone in Middle-earth. Death would find all before long. But then, his thought turned to the son who he'd only just called away from death a few days ago. What good had it done for him to be healed only to have to try vainly to defend his city again? Why hadn't he told him the truth when he had the chance?

Darkness covered everything and Aragorn felt himself shaking and with his last breath he called out to his son.

"Father!" he heard suddenly, his eyes snapping open in response.

"Estel! Wake up, you are dreaming!" said another familiar voice nearby.

Aragorn looked up to see Faramir and the twins, all alive and well, but looking concerned. Looking around him, even in the dim light, he could see that this was certainly not a battlefield. As his focus returned, Elladan handed him a flask but stopped him from drinking too deeply. Rapidly he was feeling much better, if not rather foolish.

"Are you still having those dreams, Estel?" Elrohir asked.

Aragorn just shrugged. "If i am it is still _your_ fault."

Faramir just looked worried, considering the type of dreams he himself usually had it was no surprise. "Father... do you dream the way i do? Prophetically?" he asked hesitantly. Whatever reply he'd expected, it had not been the twins nearly injuring themselves with laughter.

"Not exactly, Fara'," Aragorn said tersely, his tone, along with an annoyed warning glare, directed wholly at his brothers. Naturally, they did not heed him.

"Remember the time," Elrohir said between gales of laughter, "that he dreamed - the pet orc in the wine cellar!"

"I was seven!" Aragorn said in his defense.

"Oh, quite right... they got much better the older you got!" Elladan said. "Like when you were 16 and you kept having that dream about -"

"If you dare say it...," Aragorn warned, now sounding extremely serious and turning a shade of red that Faramir doubted he'd ever seen before.

The twins glanced at each other with that glance that said they definitely did dare. "Daernaneth!" they said in unison before bolting out of the room, Aragorn chasing after them.

Faramir just shook his head and went back to sleep wondering what it was going to be like when they got back home.

ooo

_AM: Motion passed, though it's going to be hard for me to stick to it, updating alternately. Still, this story is almost done. I think._

_linda: Oh yes, Aragorn was definitely brave to fight off a snake. Braver still to allow the twins to come home with him and Fara'._

_Elenhin: For as afraid of snakes as i am, the snake chapters were not as difficult to write as this one. This was utter hell to write and i thought it would never get done. For a few days last week i just gave up writing because i had nothing to say about the trip home, and everytime i got an idea, it seemed to go nowhere. Then there was Thursday night, i was in bed by 9 after drinking too much green beer after work (ale that's pale will not make you unstable, drink ale that's red and your caution you shed, a brew that is brown will knock you down, but a beer that's green will finish you clean!). _

_Redone: Though the word allergy is pretty modern itself, the concept isn't, and for Elves who have had thousands of years to observe and study these things, i would think it would not been so advanced. As for the twins... just wait, i've got a few ideas up my sleeves._


	58. No Place Like Home

On the weeklong ride home, Faramir began to wonder exactly what his father had done, or threatened to do, to his brothers. Not only was the remaining journey peaceful but also incredibly restful. Apparently Aragorn's silent treatment had been having the opposite effect the whole way from Imladris to Edoras, and the Steward wondered what could have possibly made them behave. Faramir was very interested to find out, thinking it must be a very handy tactic, and though so far the twins had been surprisingly charitable toward their little brother's son, he had a feeling that they were only lulling him into a false sense of security. If they thought that would work on him of all people they had another think coming!

And yet, they were within sight of home, and still all was well. All had been well for far too long for Faramir's comfort. He supposed he had come to be comfortable with chaos in his life. It was when all was calm that he began to worry. Always was there a calm before the storm.

But Faramir put away those thoughts as they rode through the gates, trumpeters stationed all over the city announcing that the King and Steward were home again. It was literally an uphill battle to ride through the streets when the throngs gathered, cheering their beloved leaders. Yet after what seemed to take half an hour, they finally made it to the stables and dismounted, the twins offering to see their four mounts happily stabled as only Elves can.

Just as Faramir and Aragorn were about to head up the tunnel to the Citadel a nurse came rushing out from the Houses of Healing, begging for the King to come and help a particularly difficult delivery. For a moment Aragorn was terrified that there was something wrong with his Arwen, but he reminded himself that she still had three full months to go. He was also reassured that, according to Elrond, Elves do not have the type of complications many Mortal women suffer from at childbirth, though the experience could still be every bit as draining, depending upon how much of herself the mother chose to pass on to her child.

Aragorn sighed and told Faramir to on ahead. He hoped dearly that this would not take as long as some deliveries had, he was desperate to see Arwen again, and yet he could never allow a woman to suffer. When he emerged two hours later the sun was setting. Going over to the stables, Aragorn found the twins just finishing up with Roheryn and ready to escort their tired brother to his home.

"Your sister will kill me if you two come to dinner looking like that," Aragorn said, noting the bits of straw which decorated the twins.

Elladan smirked. "We had a bit of a straw fight... i won, of course."

"You did not win! I did!" Elrohir retorted.

"I really could not care less who won," Aragorn said, sounding rather testy. "Come on and clean up."

When Elrohir made to jump into the fountain in the courtyard the poor guards looked like they were going to faint. These guards were men who had survive the War to end all wars, they had battled orcs, trolls, Haradrim, Easterlings, they had seen more terrifying things than they could ever have dreamed... but those two Elves utterly unnerved them. Fortunately, Aragorn caught Elrohir by the collar and practically dragged him inside.

"That wasn't very nice, Estel," Elrohir pouted.

Aragorn just stared back in a way that said he was in no mood for their foolishness. "I trust i do not need to escort you any further? My honored brothers have their chambers held in reserve. I will be in mine for a while. Perhaps i will see you at dinner." Aragorn proceeded to make his way directly to his private quarters, not even acknowledging the welcomes he was given.

He practically fell against the door as he closed it behind him. He was tempted to pour himself a glass of wine, but told himself that he should work on getting to dinner as Arwen was probably already there herself. He had only just peeled off his coat and tunic when a gentle voice in the next room called his name in question. He dropped everything and went to Arwen immediately. She looked as inviting as she had the first time he saw her and he desperately wanted to crawl in bed next to her and sleep. Instead he kissed her deeply and held her close, breathing in her lavender scent.

"Oh how i've missed you," he said, gently helping her sit up. He had only then noticed just how much her belly had grown. Holding her hand and brushing her hair back he looked into her deep, mysterious eyes. There was no mystery in her little smile, though. She simply glowed, more than Elves normally do. He lowered his hand and gaze to her belly. "Arwen, I love you so -" he started to say, glancing back up to her, but he broke down mid-sentence, surprising Arwen as she held him against her, trying to calm him.

"_Mela... sidh. Im nev_," she soothed. "What troubles my love so?"

Aragorn held her tightly, protectively. He took several deep breaths before he could answer. "I just lost a patient; a mother... giving birth to her first child," he said sadly.

Arwen held him close, road dust and all, giving him all the comfort he needed until his hunger overcame his sadness. As he quickly bathed before making his appearance at dinner they talked of all that had been going on while he was away. Aragorn was concerned that Arwen was not coming to dinner with him but she explained that these last three months were like the last month would be to a Mortal woman and that meant she was essentially confined to their bed chamber.

Before heading downstairs he held his beautiful wife again, kissing her and laying a gentle kiss on top of her belly. "I can not wait to meet you," Aragorn whispered. He could have sworn he felt a little nudge from within her at that.

Arwen laughed softly. "And he can not wait to meet you! However, we shall all three of us have to wait a little longer."

Aragorn's smile beamed and he promised that he would do all he could for the next three months to spend as much time with her as possible.

ooo

Parting from his father, Faramir hurried up to the Citadel, practically racing across the courtyard to get to the King's house. He did not slow down until he was inside his home again and even then he took the stairs up to his quarters two at a time. Walking into his sitting room he pulled his cloak off without even bothering to unfasten it first, and when he heard a delightful squealing laugh he left the cloak lay on the floor and rushed into his bed chamber where Belthil sat on the floor holding Elboron's chubby little hands as the child took first one than two tentative steps.

"Welcome home, my uncle," Belthil said, seeing Faramir there in the doorway.

It took Faramir a few moments to come up with a response, so astounded he was at the sight of his little boy standing and taking steps. Belthil never did get the "thank you" Faramir intended though, as just as he was about to open his mouth Elboron turned and looked questioningly at his father for a moment before saying, "_a-da_," in a most cheerful voice, even as his legs decided they'd had enough for the day and sent him straight back down.

Tears of happiness filled Faramir's shining grey eyes as he lifted up his baby son and swung him around before holding him close and kissing his forehead. Elboron immediately took hold of Faramir's wavy locks and laughed in absolute glee that his daddy was back, there was no mistake because daddy's hair was by far the most fun to pull.

"How i missed you!" Faramir said to his little one. "And i thought you promised me you would not grow too much while i was away. Look at you! I knew you were growing like a weed, but at this rate you'll have a beard like Mithrandir's before i know what's what. You will hate me for this when you get to be my age, but you will always be daddy's little boy to me. Was it not just yesterday i held you for the first time and wept with joy that you were my little boy?" Faramir then turned to Belthil. "I can not thank you enough for being so good to him while we were gone."

Belthil chuckled. "Elboron has been a joy, uncle. Between helping with your office and keeping guard duty, he has been the highlight of my days. Last week the Queen took to her chambers, apparently she is due soon and it's been all me since. Though i have been infinitely thankful for Legolas and Gimli being about as well. When you have time, there is something i need to inform you of, but it can wait. Elboron deserves his father's undivided attention just now. It will be time for his evening feeding soon and you too should eat."

Faramir nodded and allowed himself to just enjoy holding his son and feeling that wonderfully familiar pull on his hair until Berethil came to feed Elboron, allowing Faramir to get himself ready for supper.

It was very good to be home again.

ooo

_Moving right along... This has been a fruitful weekend so far! Perchance i will manage to get in yet another update on Separate Chaos. Next week is a short week for me, so hopefully i will be able to get a lot of writing done next weekend as well, since i only ever write on the weekend's anymore._

_AM: Torturous twins soon to come._

_Elenhin: I must say, when it comes to the twins, there is a very fine line between brave and... well, typical twin behavior. Some would call it imprudent perhaps. I must confessi have yet to get to work on my "mouse army" tale, i've been so occupied with this and Separate Chaos. Once i wrap this one up i will be much more disposed to getting on with some other little tales. I am dying to read your version though! I also have to confess i haven't really given much thought to the issue of infant Faramir and the nappy situation. Being childless myself and highly unlikely to ever reproduce, i never really thought about it. I have a little sister, only five years younger than me, but i never really had the joy of experiencing that whole ordeal. _

_linda: Sometimes i wonder why exactly the Ring had to be destroyed in Mt. Doom. Couldn't the Valar have taken care of it? Of course, i guess Sauron would have been pretty pissed off and destroyed everything between Mordor and the Pelóri. Ah, well, what's done is done. _


	59. Back to Work

Faramir had few dinner companions that first evening back home. In fact, it was just him and his nephew. At one point Gimli had stalked in muttering something about trailing vines, then offering a welcome to Faramir with a mouth full of some manner of meat that the Steward had been tactfully avoiding, before swigging back an ale and stalking back out again.

"From what i have gathered," Belthil said, "Master Legolas has been training flowering vines about some of the newly reconstructed stonework in the city. Master Gimli is not at all pleased."

"Ah well, as long as nothing has changed," Faramir said with a smile. For a while Faramir spoke of the wonders of Imladris, saying that he now had some design changes for the place at Emyn Arnen.

Belthil discussed some of the business of the Stewardship. Though he had tried to be judicious in handling the simpler things such as routine requisitions, much he had decided to set aside for Faramir. He also informed his uncle of the incident with Lord Gwaithir, but said that he did not consider much of a problem any longer since naught else had been heard of him. Belthil talked of how he had been helping the younger Faramir learn his letters, apparently the lad was quite helpful as a messenger about the city. When his uncle began to look a little tired Belthil decided to wait until he saw the King to deliver his report of the Council.

Faramir had to admit that he was rather tempted to sneak off to Rivendell more often, considering how well things had gone in his absence. He thanked Belthil again for his dutiful care of so much (oh to be that young again! Faramir remembered the days when he could manage several stations at once), and headed back to his chambers to spend some more time with his son. He was joined by a pair of uninvited twins who suddenly seemed bored and Faramir wondered if his father was still assisting with the delivery - why else would these two be bothering him.

"Hope you do not mind, but most of the baggage we brought up here to your sitting room since your father is not in a good mood right now. Is Estel really that mad at us or is he always this ill-tempered now that he's a king?" Elrohir asked, taking the liberty to stretch out on Faramir's bed.

Faramir really did not know how to address that. In his opinion, his father had a most agreeable disposition. On the other hand, he was really starting to get annoyed by these two himself. He loved them dearly, yes, for he could see plainly how very loyal they had always been and would always be to their little brother, his father, but still... sometimes they just did not know when to quit.

"I think it's neither, 'Ro," Elladan said thoughtfully. "I think something was bothering him. Did something happen at supper, or..." he started to ask Faramir then thought again, "oh, i bet '_Wen_ is not in a good mood."

"At supper? It was just Belthil and i at supper. No, father is not back yet, to my knowledge," Faramir said softly, stroking his sleeping son's cheek.

"Back? We thought he had finished supper and came to the stables to drag us up here where he can keep an eye on us," Elladan said.

"No, he was called into the Houses of Healing by some frantic nurse before we started through the tunnel. She said something about a difficult delivery," Faramir said, really paying more attention to Elboron than the twins.

Elladan jumped up off the bed and left the room so quickly that Elrohir had no idea what he was doing. Trying the door to his little brother's chambers, he found it barred and cursed those damned Mortal doors. He knocked frantically until Aragorn answered the door, rather annoyed.

"What happened?" Elladan demanded.

Aragorn looked confused. "What? What do you -... oh, about that, i am sorry, i did not mean to take it out on -"

"What _happened_, Estel?" Elladan pressed.

Aragorn shook his head. "I spent an hour trying to help a woman stay strong enough to deliver her child, but she did not survive. I spent the next hour trying to console her husband."

"Her husband? Then 'Wen is all right?" Elladan said, relief evident in his eyes.

"Yes, she is doing quite... oh, 'Dan, she's fine, i am sorry i worried you," Aragorn said, just then understand his brother's fear. Elrohir only just decided to catch up to his twin and was completely confused. "Go on and see her, i need to take some supper," Aragorn ushered his brothers into his chambers before leaving.

That evening just about everyone was ready for an early night. Anything that had waited for the attention of the King and/or Steward the last two months could surely keep until morning. By his bedside that night Faramir found that Belthil had returned Boromir's book. Faramir noted that his nephew had been careful to keep the book marked where his uncle had left off before leaving for Imladris, and a small slip of parchment inside the front cover read simply, "Thank you for introducing me to my father." Faramir intended to read more of his brother's words that night, but sleep claimed him swiftly, and against his will, after he'd read the date of the next entry for the fourth time over.

The next day Faramir was tempted to skip breakfast and get straight to work, but having a son who needed to eat so frequently was a reminder that he needed to take care of himself as well. Just as he was getting ready to head down to the dining hall, there was a knock upon his front door. Answering the door he found he could only open it about six inches or so and as he was trying to figure out what was the cause of this the door mysteriously slammed in his face. Faramir stood for half a moment in sheer perplexity before trying the door again. Still it would only open about six inches and again the door was swiftly pulled shut from without, highly aggravating the Steward. Someone was up to no good and he had a rather fair idea who it might be.

Little did he know that in a linen closet directly across the hallway from his chambers a certain Silvan Elf from the kingdom of Mirkwood woke most bewildered to the sound of someone pounding on the door. The last thing Legolas remembered was being surprised to see the twins in Minas Tirith for a visit, and they brought some wine from home... When he tried to open the door, more in the interest of exacting some kind of revenge on Elladan and Elrohir than actually answering the knock, he found the door would not open without a good, strong pull, and only several inches then. Suddenly the door slammed shut again in his face. Oh yes, this had the mark of the Terrible Two all over it!

Faramir sighed deeply. He should not have been surprised and he knew that. "Keep your door closed for a moment," he called across the hall when he figured out that two doors were tied by a length of rope between them.

Instead Legolas opened the door again and Faramir was coming to his wit's end. "Keep yours closed," the Elf called. "You will not be able to untie the knot they have tied. I probably will not either."

Faramir opened his door, thus causing the linen closet door to close. "If we both open the doors at the same time, with a good, swift pull, it may break the rope. It looks pretty thin actually." The door then closed in his face again.

"It is hithlain, a wild mûmak could not break this," Legolas said.

"Then how are we to get out of here? I've got work to attend to this day, i can not be trapped in here until those two miscreants decided to let us out," Faramir said, opening his door and slamming Legolas's again.

"How do you think i feel trapped in this little cupboard? There is not even a window in here!" Legolas said closing Faramir's door again. "And i, too, have things that must be accomplished... i've two Elves to strangle and i do not care if it is kinslaying. Even the Valar would understand my motives!"

Presently, they heard someone coming from the far end of the hall way. Immediately Legolas recognized the rhythm of the pace. "Aragorn!" he called out, hoping to slow his friend's ordinarily swift stride. It did not exactly work as planned, instead distracting the King's attention and causing him to trip directly over the length of rope, which he had not noticed anyway, it being made from hithlain and all.

Fortunately for all involved the sound of all the havoc drew out a very pregnant she-Elf who'd had enough of the slamming doors down the hall from the royal couple's private chambers. Seeing her husband lying there in the hallway in a heap and a length of rope tied to two door knobs, she knew at once what was up. It had been years since the twins had pulled that on her; in fact, it had been years since they tried out any of their tricks on her. Genteel and placid as Arwen normally was, she learned very early in life just how one had to deal with Elladan and Elrohir.

Arwen freed Faramir and Legolas, confiscating the rope to make sure there was no further scheming on the part of her brothers, but she insisted that when Legolas, Faramir, and Aragorn came up with suitable revenge that they let her in on it as well. One had to wonder if the twins stood a chance when those four joined forces.

Once they managed to recollect themselves, and after taking their morning meal, Faramir and Aragorn decided to see what had gone on, administratively speaking, in their absence. Though Faramir was sure Belthil had done well in keeping his office running smoothly, he did not truly hold out hope that it would be as immaculately kept as when Erestor had taken up his tasks. And Faramir felt a little guilty about Belthil taking on the extra work while he was also keeping busy as an official Citadel Guard as well, not to mention keeping his little baby cousin entertained and helping young Master Faramir in learning his letters. If only Erestor could have stayed, but having now seen Imladris for himself, Faramir could understand very well why the Elf lord had not stayed in Minas Tirith.

Still, the Steward of Gondor smiled warmly as he sat behind his desk for the first time in a while. He could not help but grin at the stacks of requisitions which required his approval, the petitions that needed to be sorted before he took them to his father, the various reports and correspondences. Faramir sat back and took up a report prepared by Belthil. He'd gotten halfway through it when Aragorn almost wandered in to his son's office, reading a copy of the same report. Both men seemed utterly dazed by it's contents.

ooo

_Elenhin: Twins... brave or stupid: depending on what sort of revenge they end up receiving, i am leaning toward... less than wise. And wasn't Elboron the dearest last chapter? This story is coming to an end so soon, and i need to find a way to get more Elboron in! But then again, there is always Separation Chaos withour babyFaramir and poor Aragorn._

_linda: It was a sad situation for Aragorn to have to deal with just returning home, especially now that he is just, just starting to get a little nervous about becoming a father again. But he should be ok now that he's got the love of his life and his son and grandson... of course, the twins, for levity's sake._


	60. Progress

Faramir glanced up at his father. Both were holding several sheets of parchment, and both wore the same astonished look.

"Are you reading what i am?" Faramir asked.

"Belthil's report on the King's Council?" Aragorn said.

Faramir just nodded. "This is scarcely believable... In all that i have studied, this is utterly without precedent," he said dumbfounded.

"When i appointed the new Council, i never in my wildest dreams imagined that _this_ would be the result!" Aragorn said, still staring at the report before him.

There was a knock at Faramir's study door and both father and son turned to see Belthil standing there, Elboron sitting up in hiscousin's arms. "Someone wanted to see you, my uncle," Belthil said, making sure that no one else was about first. "He's been crying for you ever since Lady Arwen helped liberate you and Master Legolas this morning."

Taking his son into his arms, Elboron's little hands immediately reaching for wavy locks to entertain himself with, Faramir set the report aside for a moment. "I guess the entire city is aware of what the twins did to us," Faramir said. "Father, i may love your brothers well, but i have to admit that sometimes i just want to -"

"Strangle them?" Aragorn finished for his son. "Welcome to the family. They seem to think no one can truly be one of us until he has come through a certain trial by fire. I think they have been greatly influenced by the smiths of Eregion - always they must test gold in their own little crucible."

"Gold?" Faramir said in mock surprise. "Really, father, i expected a bit more... something more the caliber of mithril, perhaps."

Aragorn smiled at his son's repartee, but it was a slightly sad smile when he thought that not so very long ago he doubted that he would ever see his son genuinely relaxed and carefree again. His child had gone through far, far too much and Aragorn was determined that he should do all in his power to keep him from further hurt.

Elboron took up for his grandfather, though, giving a good hard tug to his father's hair, giggling as if to say, "that's what you get for teasing my grandpa."

Faramir looked around his study, wondering if there was anything there that might be amusing to a baby. There were plenty of books around to amuse him, but probably nothing that Elboron would much enjoy. When it came to entertaining his child, Faramir told himself that it would likely be best to think more like Boromir might have. In other words, books and tales were, as of yet, out of the question. Anticipating the future of his fatherhood, though, Faramir knew that it would not be long before Elboron could appreciate stories. Remembering his own childhood, Faramir thought that he was maybe no more than three years old when his favorite tale was about the little Hobbit who faced the big dragon not so very long ago. It was not until that day he and his company had taken Frodo and Sam to Henneth Annun that he actually believed that story though, and only a couple of months ago in Rivendell had he gotten the whole story, straight from the source..

Deciding the best entertainment he could provide at the moment was his own hair, Faramir sat back down at his desk and took up the report again. Elboron didn't seem to mind if the rest of his family conducted business while he was there.

"This is all true, Belthil?" Aragorn asked about the Council report. "I mean, this is not just a joke, is it?"

"No, indeed it is not, my lord," Belthil said. "What do you think?"

"What do we think? My question is, who's idea was this anyway?" Faramir said, shifting Elboron to his other arm, so he could see his nephew as they talked. Unfortunately, Elboron did not let go of the lock of hair he had a hold of and practically strangled his father with it until Faramir worked it loose and offered another bit of hair to his little one.

"I wish i could take credit, but actually the idea to convene was Master Gimli's," Belthil said.

"This is unprecedented, you know," Faramir said. "Never before has a council actually convened and done something _productive_, let alone forward-looking, without being told to."

"You realize what this means, of course," Aragorn said, looking over at Faramir.

"To me it means that the world has indeed changed, so much so that men can come up with idea independent of supervision... and every now and again you or i or both of us at once can concentrate on other things," Faramir said with a smile.

Aragorn nodded. "I think we have just made a real advancement. These ideas are very worthy, Belthil," he said, tapping at the pages he held. "I would be happy to discuss these at length at the next meeting. That is scheduled next month?" he asked Faramir.

"Aye, just before the harvest festival," Faramir confirmed. "I should also have the figures on what the garrisons will need by then, there are only a few who have yet to report."

"Actually, uncle," Belthil said, looking over the stacks of parchments until he found the right one, "the last five are in."

"Well, this place seems to run better when i have nothing to do with it," Aragorn said. "In which case, i do not suppose anyone will mind if i can not be found for the rest of the afternoon. There is nothing urgent, is there, Belthil?"

"Not a thing, my lord," the young man said with a smile. "If you will excuse me, i am on duty soon."

Aragorn nodded his consent, aware that Belthil was yet accustomed to such formalities. He was getting used to the fact that no matter how casual he was, some people in Minas Tirith were never going to be comfortable with that and that he simply had to try his best to meet them halfway. After all, these people had dreamed their whole lives of one day serving the _King_, they'd spent years of their lives training to be "properly acquitted" in such royal company... only to have some Ranger from the North come in and drag road dust and mud all over their highly polished floors. It was the least he could do to _sometimes_ act like what they had always wanted a King to act like. For the moment, though, Aragorn was more concerned with acting like a husband andwent to keep his expecting wife company.

And so it was that everything was running more smoothly than ever before in Gondor. The renewal in Minas Tirith alone was hugely inspiring. Everyone was happy and well and prospering again. That was until one night about a month before Arwen was due to give birth.

Elboron was already asleep for the night (Faramir had actually started sleeping through the night again as his son now only fed at daylight hours) and Faramir was just about to set his book down for the night and turn in as well, when there was a knock on his door. There stood his father, a pillow tucked under his arm and a sheepish, entreating look in his eyes.

ooo

_linda: The twins, grow up? That sounds decidedly doubtful :)_

_AM: Any ideas for a suitable revenge? I've got one idea, but have to see how i can play it out. Confinement - you are a stronger woman than i ever could be!_

_Elenhin: The revenge i am thinking of a something a little more insidious than even the twins could come up with. It is deceptive in it's simplicity. I guess this chapter answered your question as well. _

_grumpy: They definitely know better than to play games with their sister, but they do not know Faramir well enough yet... he grew up with Boromir._


	61. Vengence

There stood the King of Gondor in the hallway in naught but his leggings. Faramir had to wonder if his father had been quick enough to grab his pillow before being thrown out... or quick enough to catch it is it was thrown at him to reinforce the point made by his wife. Either way, he was quick to usher his father into his apartments before anyone would pass by and start rumors. This, he was sure, was reason number one why Gondorian husbands and wives ordinarily made it a practice to keep separate chambers.

Naught was said between them, though the silence was not so uncomfortable as it was understanding. Faramir fetched his father a shirt and poured him a glass of wine and the two just sat together in Faramir's sitting room by the blazing hearth for a while. He wondered just what could have been this serious, usually when the royal couple had a lover's quarrel it resulted in no more than Aragorn sleeping on a chaise in his own sitting room and having a stiff back in the morning.

"I think i may have said something wrong," Aragorn said, finally breaking the quiet, still just staring expressionlessly into the hypnotic fire.

Faramir looked concerned. "What exactly did you say, father?" he asked carefully.

Aragorn glanced at his son for a moment before staring into the fire again. "I said, 'I will be glad when our little one arrives and i can...-'" he hesitated nervously, clearing his throat, "'make love to you again.' Then she went utterly mad, started shouting things at me that i couldn't interpret, and... here i am."

Faramir winced. He felt like inviting his father to set up his own room in the Steward's apartments, it sounded like it would be a while before he would be getting back to his own bed. He tried to think of something comforting to say. All he could manage was, "she is in her last month and you said that to her?"

Aragorn shrugged. "It sounded innocent enough to me at the time. By the way, i think all of our garrisons should be equipped with these," he said indicating the pillow that was still tucked under his arm.

Now Faramir looked a little confused. "Father, pillows are standard issue with all soldier's kits, in garrison if not on the road."

"No, no, i do not mean in kit. I mean in the armories," Aragorn said very seriously. Faramir grew afraid for his father. "They are truly resourceful missiles."

"Well, father, as a wise old man once said to me, 'I have yet to meet the Elf who could tread lightly enough around the questions of a very pregnant woman,'" Faramir said reassuringly.

"Old... if only i were, then she might have taken pity on me. And wise? Scarcely, not after that remark," he grumbled.

Faramir smiled remembering how it was before Éowyn was delivered. And yet he was also quick to think of a distraction to ease that pain in his chest that was still biting when he thought of her or Findiel. "Well, you see yourself differently at the moment. I think the wisest thing for now would be if you would come and get some sleep. As you may recall, Lord Pharazôn of Harad is due to pay us a visit tomorrow, and i do not wish for you to be so sleepy that i have to greet him by myself. You remember the last time we hosted him? He does not stop running at the mouth about his daughters."

Aragorn chuckled, thinking how uncomfortable his son looked as the dignitary touted up his three daughters even as he was aware that Faramir was lately bereft. He was grateful to be able to share his son's bed, and both men knew just how important the meeting on the morrow was going to be for rightly establishing a real, lasting peace with Harad. Peace was not made in a day, but could be unmade by a bad night's sleep.

Just before Aragorn fell asleep, Faramir nudged him and said, "if Elboron wakes in the night, you shall have to feed him."

ooo

The next morning when they went to take their breakfast, Legolas was already waiting in the dining hall for them. "Have you seen your brothers?" Legolas whispered to Aragorn.

The King looked around suspiciously. "No, not as yet today. Why?" Legolas then brought forth a scroll with several sketches on it. Aragorn and Faramir both leaned in close to see. After studying the ideas for a few moments Aragorn declared, "These are brilliant! The only trouble shall be settling on one."

Legolas shook his head. "I see no need to confine this to one act of revenge. You do know that they have been at these games unchecked for over 2000 years?" Just then his sharp hearing caught the sound of two certain miscreants entering the dining hall and quickly he rolled up the scroll again.

"Good morning, brothers all," the two said simultaneously with their signature overdone and unnecessary bows.

Legolas smiled serenely and nodded. Faramir's expression was more or less impassive, and old trick he had long since perfected. Aragorn, however, made them suspicious. Since when had their little brother ever been so keen togo so far as to sit them right beside himself? It seemed that Estel was up to something.

Faramir noticed that the twins seemed a little suspicious of his father's ostentatious behavior this morning. It gave him an idea that was so simple it was easily overlooked, and yet it could be ever so effective if properly executed. He made certain to keep the conversation typical over breakfast, waiting until the twins left and were well away before asking to see Legolas's plans again.

"These are indeed well thought out," he said in a quiet tone. "However, if those two have really been at this so long, they will suspect something. Already they noticed you were more outgoing than usual with them, adar. I propose something a little different, i propose using their 'skill' and suspicion against them," Faramir said with a diabolical smile.

Aragorn had never seen that gleam in his son's eyes and had to know what he had come up with. Whatever it was, if it could topple the twins, he wanted in on it and knew Legolas would too. Surely Arwen would as well, but with the mood she was currently in, perhaps it would not be the best idea to inform her just now. Aragorn nodded for Faramir to continue.

"Mind you, done right this is going to take a bit of time, and much cooperation. In fact, the more people we haveparty tothis, the better," he said.

"More than likely i can enlist Gimli's help," Legolas said. "And Arwen said she wanted to be in on whatever we came up with. Surely you can get a few of the guards around here to help... we could probably get the entire counsel in on it." Revenge on this scale was something that Legolas had waited centuries for and he was very willing to do whatever was necessary for this cause. "One should never disregard a Silvan's capacity for revenge," Legolas said with a wickedsparkle in his eyes.

"So, what do we do?" Aragorn asked, almost growing a little afraid for his brothers, even if he knew full well just how much they deserved it.

Faramir leaned in very close, briefly locking eyes with both of his co-conspirators. "Nothing," he whispered. He smiled widely at the confused look both wore. They had been expected something quite elaborate, just as the twins would be. Sometimes the most effective solution was found in simplicity.

"Faramir...," Aragorn said slowly, "What exactly do you mean 'nothing?'"

"Just as i said. It is the last thing they will expect, and the idea is that we do not let them know that we will do nothing, not for a good while at least."

Legolas suddenly grinned. "Keep them thinking they are about to fall... yes, i absolutely understand. How very... cunning of you."

Aragorn was also beginning to understand. "So if i am walking along with someone else in on this and we spot them," he said aloud, imagining a scenario which would facilitate this little ruse, "the idea would be to suddenly grow silent, cast wary glances their way, and quickly move somewhere more secret?"

"That would work quite well. Of course, this will have to be stealthy, we can not be 'on' all of the time. It would also help to have someone on the in whom they think they can trust; someone needs to let them know that something is being plotted, but nothing more than that."

"Well, the next time Arwen permits me to talk to her, i will bring it up," Aragorn said with a slightly bitter tone.

"Oh, there is no rush, father," Faramir said. "As i said, done right, this will take time. The longer we keep this going, the more anxious they will become."

The three agreed that this would be a perfect retribution. They were confident that it would not be difficult to involve the entire population of Minas Tirith if they were so inclined. Legolas decided to go about summoning conspirators at once, while Faramir and Aragorn prepared to meet with Lord Pharazôn, who, they were told, had arrived early that morning.

ooo

_AM: Many thanks for the correction. Sometimes the whole family tree thing has too many branches and ends up confused. I ought to employ a Hobbit to check over all familial titles in these stories._

_linda: I am thinking that future vignettes of Elboron growing up will be written, either as one shots or in the next Chaos story._

_Elenhin: Yes, the idea was indeed to keep you on the edge, just as it is to keep the twins on the edge :)_

_Thanks to those who reviewed Separate Chaos's last update despite the site being so spotty. More to come with both of these. I think there are only about two more chapters left on this story._


	62. Changes

After dressing for the meeting, Faramir went to his study and picked up the necessary materials, including spare parchment and ink as well as copies of all prior agreements with Harad. He went to his father's study, from which together they went out to the Tower Hall, it being easier to face the winter chill in somebody's company than separately.

Lord Pharazôn was waiting for them within the Hall, as was not ordinary practice except in inclement weather. He had brought gifts to offer his collaborators and presented them to Aragorn and Faramir before they got into matters of state. Opening a trunk, Pharazôn proffered the usual wines and silks of Harad. Also he gave to Aragorn an ornate chest filled with small brown seed-like beans.

"These," he said, lifting a handful, "can be ground and cooked into a most delicious indulgence. There is instruction on their utilization. Ladies seem to particularly enjoy this delicacy, but if i may offer a word of caution, one should be careful how much of this one takes - it is known to cause certain... amorous situations."

"This works with Elves as well?" Aragorn inquired, momentarily forgetting himself.

Pharazôn just shrugged, chuckling at both Aragorn's keen curiosity and Faramir's look of complete discomfiture.

"Well, i suppose we can get down to dealings now. Faramir, you have those prior agreements?" Aragorn said, intentionally pursuing the change of topic. Naturally, his son produced all necessary paperwork, and then some, instantly. "And have your people requested any changes, additions, so on?" he asked Pharazôn.

There were some requisite negotiations which went back and forth, but overall everything was largely copasetic. "My people are quite eager to have an heir," Pharazôn excitedly pointed out as they were wrapping up negotiations. Aragorn and Faramir half ignored the seemingly out of the blue statement, figuring it was just more of his blather about those three daughters of his. "When the boy is of age, of course," Pharazôn added in a tone which seemed meant to be almost reassuringly, rather confusing them both.

Out of diplomatic courtesy(which he had learned from Erestor as asking a question when you really could not care less about the answer) Aragorn asked, "is your wife again with child or has one of your daughters become betrothed?" He would not be surprised if Pharazôn had managed to arrange a wedding for one of his girls, but he knew them to be rather young and doubted it would be too far from the mark if one planned to marry one not yet a marrying age.

Pharazôn chuckled at what he perceived to be drollness on Aragorn's part, now wholly confusing the King. "Aragorn-King, you truly do not know of the accord?" Pharazon asked, surprised that this had not been mentioned.

"No, i have not been informed," Aragorn said, starting to wonder if had been but just not cared enough to pay any attention to such court gossip that he despised.

Pharazôn then turned to look at Faramir questioningly, but the Steward said nothing, not actually noticing the foreign leader's gaze as he was busy making some final notations about their treaty. Taking out the copy of the treaty he had brought to the bargaining table, Pharazôn thumbed a few pages in and handed it to Aragorn. "There, it states so right... here," he said indicating the clause.

For a moment Aragorn wondered what this man was on about, had he suddenly switched subjects, or why upon Arda would a wedding announcement be imbedded in a peace treaty. His speculation turned to utter shock as he read over the paragraph. "Faramir... what is this? You said nothing of this to me!" he spluttered incredulously.

"Said nothing of what -?" Faramir stopped himself just short of referring to Aragorn as his father, but spoke unconcernedly nonetheless.

"This!" Aragorn said, emphatically poking at the sheets of parchment and showing the offending paragraph to his son.

"It is just the latest treaty, we have both read it, i do not know what should surprise -" Faramir faltered as he read what his father indicated. He dropped the papers to the floor in his shock. "What is this? Since when...? Lord Pharazôn, i do not know if this i meant to be some manner of joke, but that is _not_ a part of this treaty," Faramir said, already hastily searching for his own copy.

"Well, of course it is, Lord Faramir. I should like to meet the little lad soon, if i may; after all, we might as well get to know each other sooner than later," Pharazon said happily, almost as though he was oblivious to the shock the other two were in.

"Sooner than... I do not know where this notion came from! This was _never_ in this treaty. Never!" Faramir all but shouted.

"Lord Faramir," Pharazôn said, becoming a little annoyed at this continued denial, "I would encourage you to read a contract before you sign it. That article was assuredly in the copy of our treaty as i received it several months ago."

Faramir was staring in disbelief at his own copy of the treaty, which somehow bore the exact same clause. "No, this is some trickery. I had read this five times over, and i would have noticed something like this. This is not an option, not under any circumstances is my son going to be handed over as a pawn for peace between Gondor and Harad."

At that Pharazôn grew affronted. "Liege Aragorn, you do not intend to permit this sudden volte-face to disrupt this process, do you? This was in the contract as it was delivered to me, hand-delivered, personally, by Lord Faramir's adjutant."

Faramir shot in before Aragorn could say anything though. "By the gods! I will personally go to war again before i see my son devolved into some loveless marriage!"

By this time Aragorn had calmed down a great deal. Had Faramir not been so panicked, he too would have seen what his father did, likely even before him. "Lord Pharazôn," he said evenly, "who did you say delivered this treaty to you?"

"Your Steward's adjutant," Pharazôn insisted. "He also called himself your chief military counsel.

Faramir felt an incredible sense of a betrayal. Since setting out for Imladris, the only person in Minas Tirith he could have called his adjutant would have been Belthil, and it just so happened that he occupied the military counsel seat at the King's Council. How could his nephew, Boromir's son, do something like this to him, to his own cousin who he seemed to enjoy so much?

Aragorn read clearly what Faramir was thinking and pulled him close, whispering, "how could he have had anything to do with this? The treaty was to be taken by the messengers and your nephew has not been able to leave the city. He is a Citadel Guard and as you know it is not easy to get leave from that duty."

Faramir's eyes widened as he realized what his father was telling him. "But could Gwaithir have gotten a hold of our copy?" he asked.

"Obviously he did, but that is going to be another matter. Trust me, he will be dealt with, i have had enough of him for one lifetime," Aragorn hissed. "This needs to be settled, immediately," he said aloud to Pharazôn. It looked like it was going to be a long day.

It was past dark by the time the "misunderstanding" had been cleared up to the satisfaction of both parties. By some miracle, peace was still preserved, even though Aragorn did not doubt for a moment that Faramir would have made war on anyone who tried to a lay a claim to his infant son.

That night father and son chose to take their supper privately in Faramir's chambers. Immediately Faramir went to lift Elboron into his arms, relieving nurse Berethil of trying to keep the increasingly mobile baby within the bounds of safety. He held his precious son tightly, savoring the feeling of having his hair lovingly tugged upon. "Oh, how i love you my child, my Elboron," he whispered.

"Ad-da wuv!" Elboron pronounced joyfully, planting a big wet kiss on his father's cheek.

Faramir laughed and wept at once, holding his little one. "That is right, Elboron, and i will love you forever. Never, ever doubt it."

It was one of those moments that Aragorn both loved and rued, for he knew that this was what he had missed with his own son and he hated the thought that Faramir had missed that kind of affection growing up. These were the moments that made Aragorn think that would have given anything to be able to go back and change his choices when Faramir was first born and in the years thereafter.

ooo

_Does anyone mind if i just go ahead and finish out this story before continuing with other stories, namely Separate Chaos? This is very near the end now, maybe only two more chapters,and i want to get this one finished. _

_AM: Yep... they will never expect that manner of revenge, and yet... that will be just the problem._

_linda: Aragorn might be an incredible leader, but sometimes all men just say the wrong thing (sorry, lads, but it is true). And of course i am thinking of more stories! I write, therefore i am!_

_Elenhin: Ah, remodeling! I feel your pain. Just recently there was plumbing work done here and over the weekend shelving was put in the kitchen. I do not have very much patience with that manner of thing. I don't like the dust that builds up over everything. _

_I get the feeling that this is not to be the last time Aragorn is tossed out of his own private chambers. We shall see (my favorite phrase, is it not?)._


	63. The King's Mercy

That night, after the extended meeting with Pharazôn to straighten out the sabotage to their treaty, Aragorn was ready for a good night's sleep. He did not dare to try to go back to his chambers just yet, but he hoped Arwen's mood would soon swing back into a good one. He would be incredibly happy when her humor was normal and peaceful again. A thought came to him, though, that frightened him beyond belief - Galadriel had only borne one child... but her mood never went back, according to Celeborn.

As Aragorn and Faramir prepared to turn in for the night, a soft knock was heard at Faramir's front door. Faramir went to answer it as his father and son were rather busy at the moment having what must have been a private conversation as Faramir only understood about half of the "words" uttered.

"My lady," Faramir said, effecting a small bow. "You ought to be resting in your condition," he said, concerned for his Queen, but also as a slight warning for his father, as he wasn't quite sure if it was safe for them to be in the same room together just yet.

"Arwen?" Aragorn called from the inner room. Elboron was sitting up in his arms as he emerged, a length of his grandfather's hair wrapped around a little, yet deceptively strong, fist. She could not help but laugh at the sight of him with his head tilted toward his grandson as the little one kept a hold of that lock of hair, but even laughter was rather uncomfortable these days.

"I wearied of lazing about in bed," she explained, "and i decided to come and tell you that i am sorry for reacting so excessively last night. Forgive me and come to bed?" she said with the smile that always disarmed her husband. Aragorn was rendered powerless as he transferred Elboron back into Faramir's arms and hurried to support Arwen as she walked almost awkwardly back to their chambers.

Faramir could not repress a smile, but he had a feeling that before Arwen gave birth this scene would be repeated. He decided to leave Aragorn's pillow on the bed. There was no doubt in his mind why Gondorian husbands and wives kept separate chambers, even the ones who were truly in love could not be expected to share the same quarters constantly. Separate chambers merely saved wear and tear on one's lounging settee and helped keep a man's back muscles from going stiff in the night too frequently.

With the morning Faramir rose before Berethil came to keep watch over Elboron for the day and went toward his father's chambers. He thought twice of it though and turned back, deciding it was better to let the King rest, there would be enough to work on as they investigated the changing of the latest treaty with Harad. They could not yet implicate Gwaithir enough to charge him formally, but this had his meddling written all over it, literally.

Faramir remembered how close Gwaithir's father had been to Denethor, and there was no doubt in the present Steward's mind that had the former Steward not done himself in he would have taken care of this sort of meddling himself if only to make difficulty for the King. There was no cloaking the fact that Denethor detested the man known to him as Thorongil with an odium most Men reserved for minions of Sauron.

At breakfast Legolas and Gimli were eagerly discussing the justice planned for the twins. Hearing Faramir approach, Legolas went quiet, prompting Gimli to follow suit, until he saw it was another who was in on the ruse. Faramir decided to let their joke simmer on the back burner, at the moment he was most interested in hearing anything about Gwaithir that could incriminate him legitimately.

Neither Legolas nor Gimli had any trouble with him after the incident at which time Legolas handed over the steamy letter from Glorfindel. It was about that time that Belthil came in from the night turn on guard duty, quite inclined to take the morning repast as soon as possible. Faramir explained to them what had gone on with the changed clause in the treaty and all three were more than ready to either bar Pharazôn from leaving, guard Elboron with their lives, or introduce Gwaithir to the sharp end of either fighting knives, axe, or sword. It took a lot of dissuading on Faramir's part to ensure them that the treaty had been properly rectified, that Pharazôn was blameless in the matter and Elboron was perfectly safe, and that Gwaithir was going to be properly dealt with as soon as he could be charged.

Belthil mentioned having seen the ex-councilor leaving Faramir's office while they were away, but upon questioning him Belthil was told that he had only been seeking a quill he'd left there the day before. At the time it seemed to hold water, as Belthil had had the misfortune to have Gwaithir as a "guest" while he was attempting to keep Faramir's office from being overrun. He said that another guard had seen the happening and could back him up.

Faramir nodded that he would consider that and said that his father would know as soon as they began work on the issue. Just then Legolas signaled for them to quiet and moments later the twins sat themselves down for breakfast, the room suddenly gone quiet, some making it intentionally obvious that they were concealing something. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged wary glances but carried on as usual. Slowly the conversation started again, deliberately steered toward rather banal subjects until Aragorn finally entered.

After breakfast Aragorn asked Faramir and Belthil to join him in his office to discuss the Gwaithir situation. Belthil offered to fetch his comrade-in-arms who witnessed the ex-councilor leaving Faramir's office the one day and Aragorn very nearly commanded that he do so. He wanted Gwaithir out of his way as soon as possible. He had expected this kind of resistance from Denethor, and he told himself that he needed to be appreciative that that was not the case, but he still had to wonder if he would ever get any peace in the rest of his years.

During the meeting, after the guard was interviewed and dismissed back to his post, it was made clear that all involved simply wanted to get the matter settled and to find a way to diplomatically silence Gwaithir and his delusions of grandeur, to say nothing of his all too close to the mark accusations.

Faramir and Aragorn remained in his study for a while after Belthil went to see his cousin and take some rest. They so far had little evidence that would lead to a proper charge and trial, and yet neither doubted for a moment that it was Gwaithir who was the chief architect and planner of their most recent difficulty.

"To speak plainly," Aragorn said, his frustration evident, "between Pharazôn's word that it was Gwaithir who hand-delivered the altered treaty and that young guard's testimony that he saw him sneaking about your study, i feel that there is enough evidence against him. I want this to be over with. I do not know what should be done with him, but i want him out of our way... immediately. I did not allow this inheritance so that i could have men like that one doubt my every turn."

It pained Faramir to see that the bane of a man really got to his father so. He hated to see anything trouble his father, but this most of all because, by Aragorn's own admission, it came back to the issue of doubt again. And yet... "I understand entirely, father, but within the bounds of the law, we can not really indict him on those testimonies alone, i am sorry to say."

Aragorn exhaled in aggravation, rising from behind his desk to pace his spacious study. He was beginning to run low on patience, and it was only mid-December. How he would last the winter, he did not know. "Then what can we do? Everyone here knows what that scoundrel is up to. He is dangerous, in my opinion, to my loved ones and i will not brook that. I am _supposed_ to be King of this place, can not i simply _change_ the law?"

Faramir knew very well what his fraught father was up against. He, too, had grappled with this problem. "What good do you suppose it would do to bring him here for... some sort of private trial, perhaps, or at least under a flag of truce?" Faramir offered.

Aragorn figured a private trial of the man had to be better than a public one, though he himself had no notions of truce at the moment. Perhaps this would get an admission of him as a minimum, though, and that would spare all sides much trouble. And still Aragorn warred within himself over what manner of "sentence" he would pronounce. As he saw it, this man's actions had amounted to sedition, treason, and sabotage. What the typical penalty for that in Gondor was and what he was willing to sentence another of his own people to were two different things. Even with those who did little to earn it, Aragorn could not prevent his mercifulness. Thus he agreed with his son's idea and they had Gwaithir sent for at once. Both wanted this justice settled that day, and not a moment later.

It did not come as much of a surprise to father or son that when Gwaithir was politely escorted into the King's study he was looking rather self-satisfied. Ever the gracious host, Aragorn asked him to make himself comfortable and even offered a glass of wine. The King and Steward were then seated across from the ex-councilor.

"Lord Gwaithir," Aragorn began conversationally, "you are of course familiar with the term 'treason'?"

Gwaithir said nothing, but stared at his King with a confused and somewhat trepid expression.

"Right... and so you also know of 'sedition,'" Aragorn continued, still sounding every bit as pleasant.

Gwaithir now looked concerned. What could this supposed king be getting at... surely he did not think that that little addition to their treaty could be considered treason?

"Ah, and clearly you know 'sabotage.'" Aragorn said, beginning to sound a little less cordial.

"What is it you are trying to say, Liege Elessar?" Gwaithir said petulantly.

"I would simply like your testimony regarding an unauthorized change to the peace treaty we had most lately signed with Harad," Aragorn said, resuming his perfect calm. Faramir sat by ready to make note of every word that was said.

"So i take it you did not appreciate my assistance? Well, what more should one expect from the heir of Isildur?" Gwaithir said in something between exasperation and a sneer.

"To answer your first question, no, we did not appreciate your assistance. As to your second... i suppose i should write that off, after all, at least you acknowledge my right now," Aragorn said evenly.

"No, i do not acknowledge your right, Elessar. It is not _you_ who should be called King. Denethor's son was the rightful heir and you know it!" Gwaithir shouted.

Aragorn forced himself not to roll his eyes. He had a feeling it would all come back to this again. "Unfortunately, we can not really bring Boromir into this conversation, thus i, and likely my s-Steward as well, would appreciate you staying to the subject at hand."

"You are correct, of course we can not bring Boromir into this now. What you did not count on, however, was Steward Ecthelion's proclivity for... infidelity," Gwaithir practically taunted.

"I fail to see what this has to do with the change to the treaty," Aragorn said, not appreciating this dalliance a bit.

"Everything, Elessar, everything," Gwaithir demanded. "My father was Steward Denethor's illicit half-brother. When Boromir died, i should have assumed the Stewardship and taken the crown for my own, rightly for the House of Anarion. And yes, you note that i leave Lord Faramir out of the running. You can not fool me, he is not of the House of Anarion, that much i _know_."

Aragorn had to keep himself from growing panicky about this. He did not like where this was going, and though he wished dearly to acknowledge his beloved son publicly, both knew that it could not be. "Why do you think the House of Anarion is more rightful than Isildur's house?" he asked in an effort to keep Gwaithir talking of something even remotely more general than actual family bonds.

"One can not say that you are not clever, Elessar," Gwaithir said musingly. "No, much too clever i would say. The trouble is that you do not know how to use it and that is another reason you are not fit to wear the Crown." Faramir had to employ every bit of his well-learned restraint hearing that comment, but he somehow managed to remain still and kept taking his notes. "You see," Gwaithir continued, noticing that he had vexed Faramir, "my clause of a politically arranged marriage - now that is a way to ensure peace. Think, too, of our former Steward - he himself married politically. You do not think Imrahil would have ridden here in our time of need had it not been that his whore sister -"

Gwaithir did not expect to get far past that statement before Faramir set upon him and he did not. "Did i not warn you well enough the last time?" Faramir hissed, sword drawn and pressing precariously against Gwaithir's chest.

Gwaithir seemed strangely unconcerned with Faramir's threat. The younger man turned to his father, "i could have done with this here and now. He has already admitted to the crime, and you know the penalty as well as i do." It was in no way typical of Faramir, but he had little control when baited by someone disparaging his mother's memory.

"Aye, but do not forget what the penalty was for Beregond's crimes," Aragorn said steadily.

"Beregond saved my life and acted out of loyalty. This worn would not know loyalty to anything but his own -"

"Faramir," Aragorn interceded quickly. "Peace, we do not need more bloodshed. I have a better way to do this." Aragorn sat beside his current adversary. "Denethor was not gotten any more legitimately than your father, Gwaithir. He was the first born son of a Dúnedain woman whom Ecthelion raped in the name of conferring his blessing upon her marriage. I never knew of Ecthelion's cowardice until after his death, or you may rest assured he would not have lived so long as he did. My point, Gwaithir, is that there are rather few who are here lawfully. This is what happens in societies such as this where all is done in the name of personal gain and advancement and naught in the name of love. You would argue which of us is the more rightful heir, but you miss the reality of the situation. Isildur and Anarion were brothers, dear brothers who fled failing Numenor with their father. They were the Faithful, the Elf-friends, and they would not have contested one another bitterly over whose house superceded whose."

Gwaithir laughed unexpectedly. "You sound more Elven with each breath, Elessar."

Aragorn was rapidly losing patience, though. "I give you this choice, Gwaithir, because i will not have the blood of a man of Gondor on my hands: you either leave here or you die here. That choice is yours and yours alone. If you choose to leave, that entails a permanent departure. The moment you set foot in Minas Tirith again, the choice is changed to that of death. Or, if you prefer not to leave..."

Gwaithir merely sneered at the suggestion. "Oh, certainly you understand exile well enough, do you not? You would be more merciful to give me death quickly than one in the wild."

"I said nothing about the wild. There is abundant opportunity even as near as Greywood. There is work to be done, with the riches you have from centuries of doing no work, i would not doubt that you could continue to live quite comfortably. I would have chosen to work with you for the greater good of our people, and i would have called you brother, but you have made that choice impossible for me. Now you must make your own choice. I expect an answer before any of us leave this room."

Naturally, Gwaithir very grudging accepted Aragorn's clemency and Aragorn ensured that he would have assistance in being moved to a location of his choosing, mostly as a way of keeping Gwaithir under supervision and to speed up the process. He also had the word quickly disseminated that the ex-councilor was officially exiled and that until the move was completed he was under no circumstances permitted into the Citadel for any purpose.

It was past dark by the time Faramir and Aragorn finally emerged from the King's study, both looking miserably weary and deciding to take their meal together in Faramir's quarters. Aragorn was looking forward to a quiet supper with his son and grandson (though Elboron was likely already asleep for the night), a glass of wine, and then a hot bath and a long sleep, his beautiful wife and soon-to-be child beside him.

Just as they were finishing dinner and moving on to the wine, a frantic knock at Faramir's outermost door caused both men, still on edge from the meeting, to nearly trip over one another in their haste to answer it. If this regarded Gwaithir, Aragorn swore his mercy would extend no further.

Belthil stood in the doorway looking unnerved. He did not even bother with his usual conventional greetings, but said quickly to Aragorn, "The Queen is in parturition."

ooo

_Next to the last chapter, that's why i made it so long. It feels like it's been forever since i've updated!_

_linda: I couldn't resist one last twist. I guess one day these guys will manage to get a break, when i run out of ways to torture them._

_Elenhin: She probably could literally toss him out. That may yet happen, i do have another chapter to manage in this story. A lot can happen in the last chapter. Any event, i wish i could have convinced Aragorn to be really brutal with Gwaithir, but i couldn't (it is hard to change the mind of a King), and he insisted on being all 'merciful', as usual. Oh well, it comes in handy sometimes i guess, that's why we love him and his son._


	64. To Be a Brother

Aragorn stood there for a moment trying to process what Belthil had just told him. His wife was in labor... but that could not be, she was only... only two weeks shy, Aragorn realized, seeing that it was time enough for delivery. Brushing past Faramir and Belthil, Aragorn ran toward his end of the hallway.

"My Lord, she has been taken to the Houses of Healing already!" Belthil called.

Aragorn turned with alarm written in his stare. "The Houses? But those healers have never treated an Elf!" Immediately the King went running back down through his house, past the tower, and across the courtyard toward the tunnel. He slipped on an icy spot near the fountain, nearly taking out the White Tree, but he collected himself instantly and did not slow down until he burst into the Houses, earning more than a few glares, dutifully accompanied by bows, of course.

"Where is my wife?" he tried to demand, but being out of breath as he was it came across as more of a plea.

"Her ladyship is in the birthing chambers, my liege," said a nearby healer. "But you can not go in _there_."

"I am King of this gods-forsaken mountain!" Aragorn roared. "I have gone into those chambers before to help deliver other men's wives and you mean to tell me i can not go in to see my own wife? I assure you, sir, i have had more intimate contact with her than birthing!"

Everyone in ear-shot looked petrified. They had never seen their King so distressed and more than one of them feared what he might do if he was not permitted into the birthing chambers. Yet it was utterly unprecedented that a man should be in the same room in which his wife was giving birth. Even if this healer-King had assisted with deliveries before, this was his own wife and, to the minds of those in the healing quarters, that changed everything.

"Estel...?" Arwen's ordinarily dulcet, but now rather strained, voice called from down the hallway which lead to the garden, and Aragorn rushed past everyone in his way.

ooo

Berethil came rushing into Faramir's apartments moments after Aragorn went rushing out. She feared something was wrong and her first instinct was to ensure Elboron's safety. Faramir was thankful that someone was there to watch his son until he returned, for Belthil needed to return to his post, yet Faramir wanted to be there for his father. He had not forgotten how terribly nervous he was when his little ones were born.

Faramir had hurried no slower than his father to the Houses of Healing, though he himself had made certain to avoid the icy patch which had always formed by the fountain and tree. That habit was ingrained in him since childhood. Some of the healers looked no more pleased to see Faramir come rushing into their peaceful space than they were Aragorn, though at least the Steward looked less fear-provoking and some hoped that he would even be able to persuade the King to calm down and perhaps wait in a tavern until the Queen was delivered. After all, the young Steward did seem to be able to prevail upon the King quite often, so it was said. It did the people of Minas Tirith good to see their King and Steward so close, almost like father and son, some said.

Faramir thought nothing of it when he was told that the King was inside the birthing chambers, and as indignant as the healers themselves were, the nurses had not voiced a complaint. Wondering how long Elven women could be in labor, Faramir decided to be seated in a waiting chamber. It was unfortunate that it was so bitterly cold that day, for even in winter the healing garden could be quite beautiful when the weather was comfortable enough to stroll there.

As he made himself comfortable on a chaise, Faramir felt something in his pocket, though he did not especially recall carrying anything. It was to his surprise that he brought forth Boromir's book. He smiled to himself thinking that either he was growing forgetful or it had been fate that the book just happened to be there with him just when he was thinking how he wished his brother could have seen these days. Out of all the books Faramir had ever read, this one was clearly the most special to him.

After a while, though, as his eyes grew tired, Faramir slipped the book back into his pocket. He wondered how long he had been there and how long it would yet be. All accounts said that his mother had been in labor with him for an extraordinarily long time and, though he was sure that his anxiety had severely tainted his judgment of how long Éowyn had taken to give birth, he knew it was at least a few hours.

Faramir's thoughts began to turn back toward Boromir. He often wondered what it would be like if his beloved brother was still with him. Would Boromir have accepted Aragorn as the father his half-brother? Even though Faramir was sure now that Denethor had told the elder sibling many years ago that the younger boy was not his own, he yet had to wonder if Boromir ever believed it or if he just took it for another of Denethor's mad suspicions. Still, Faramir never for an instant doubted how much his brother loved him and he was confident that Boromir would have been maybe even more happy than he himself was to finally have a _real_ father. How many years had Boromir spent standing up for his little brother and defending him? How many times had Boromir attempted to be all things to his little brother -sibling, father, and mother? Faramir was pulled from his thoughts by someone gently calling his name.

"Faramir...," a familiar voice whispered from the doorway. "There is someone here who would like to meet you. His name is Eldarion." Aragorn, holding a tiny bundle close to him, moved to sit beside his elder son. Faramir smiled recognizing that mist in his father's eyes, he remembered very well when it had been in his eyes.

Looking for the first time upon the heir of Gondor, there were suddenly tears in Faramir's eyes, accompanied by a bittersweet smile. "Welcome, son of Gondor," Faramir whispered in a choked voice.

Aragorn shifted to look at his first-born, reading there in his eyes an emotion that was rather unclear. "Faramir? Are you all right, my son? Surely you do not think that you are to be replaced in my heart -"

"No, adar," Faramir said. "It is just that i only now came to realize that i am to be the big brother now. May i hold my little brother?"

"Aye, of course," Aragorn said softly, laying his son into his son's arms. "When i first held him, i thought of the morning you were born. Then i thought of something a wise old Elf once said to me, 'Every time a man holds his newborn child for the first time, he grows another heart.'"

"Everything about him is perfect, father," Faramir said. "May the Valar grant that i can be half the brother to him that Boromir was to me. I pledge to protect you, Eldarion, son of Aragorn, from this day forth," Faramir spoke solemnly.

Aragorn smiled. It seemed that his every wish was coming true here and now. "I can not tell you how much i love you both, my Faramir and my Eldarion, my sons. There was a time when i was sure that i would never see this day," he said, receiving the sleeping baby back into his arms and still not able to manage his voice above a whisper.

Father and sons peacefully sat together for a while, reveling in this blissful tranquility. After a while, Faramir began to yawn and nod and Aragorn thought that Arwen was likely to be revived by then. Aragorn insisted that his elder son go and get some sleep as he himself rose to return to his wife with their precious son, who was starting to wake again and looking a little hungry. Upon the morrow the child who would be called the Heir of Elessar would be announced to the kingdom, it was going to be a busy day.

Faramir embraced his father and gave his new little brother a soft kiss and went to make his way to his bed and his own son. Emerging from the tunnel up to the Citadel, Faramir looked up into the winter night's sky where the hunter reigned, his glittering belt the symbol of his rank. Faramir smiled brightly through his tears as he just happened to see a shooting star go dashing across the sky. "Thank you, Boromir," he whispered from his very heart, "for being the best model of a brother i could ever have had."

_The End._

ooo

_But not quite the end! I have decided there will be an epilogue. And i am rather sure that i will start work on The Return of Chaos soon too, which is to be set further into the future (but don't worry, i will do a run through of the years up to that point as well, as i rather looking forward more to the run-through than the actual story itself). _

_Elenhin: I am vastly glad that the last chapter kept you so amused, though it was not my intent to cause such mirth that it was difficult to read:) And no, they scarcely obey me at all. Always i go into these stories thinking "this one will probably only be about 20 chapters or so" - but they have their own thoughts, you know. Do not have too many nightmares as you know i have no intent to stop writing, even if i do have nasty carpal tunnel syndrome. _

_linda: Was that a plot-bunny that just hopped in on your last review? Denethor alive when Aragorn claims the Crown, eh? Might have to look into that one._


	65. Epilogue: Much Ado About Nothing

Epilogue

It had been nearly a month since Gondor had been introduced to the heir to the Kingdoms, to much jubilation. Aragorn could not help but wonder what it would be like for his second-born to grow up with so much attention focused on him, but he was absolutely determined that Eldarion should grow up as a normal child. He wanted him to have the sort of childhood he himself had in Imladris.

The Steward's son, Elboron, was growing to be an extraordinarily happy child. He was beginning to spend much of his day in his father's study, giving his nurse a much needed rest. The child had become quite mobile indeed and had even begun to navigate the stairs, scaring his nurse Berethil out of years of her life.

Faramir had learned quickly to keep his door closed whenever his son was "working" with him. On more than one occasion had the curious little Gondorian been sitting there playing quietly as his father reviewed petitions and penned documents, then moments later Aragorn would enter his son's study, grandson in his arms with Faramir completely unaware that his son had moved at all.

The young Faramir, namesake of the Steward, was progressing rapidly in his studies with the help of Belthil. It made the elder Faramir intensely proud of his nephew and the irony that his own big brother's son had come to rather adopt little Faramir again was not in the least lost on him. It was interesting enough that they had come to be close companions in the military, but now here in the Citadel where Faramir saw it first-hand, it served to remind him of the closeness that had defined Boromir and Faramir. It was in that time that he came to realize that the grief of losing his adored brother had slowly been replaced by the memories they had together. Now when Faramir was reminded of Boromir it no longer rent his heart, but rather it made his heart feel whole again.

Faramir the younger was also a valuable ally in his station as squire. He was able to run messages about the city and also keep an eye out for the twins at the same time without looking conspicuous. If he saw them heading toward a place where were gathered several of those who were "in" on the revenge Faramir the elder had devised, he would rush ahead of the twins with the pretext of an important missive.

At once, those gathered would crowd together and make like they were discussing something extremely secretive, replete with furtive glances and the occasional snigger. When the twins came into view someone would stare up at them for a moment, whisper something which seemed to alarm the others and then they would all carry on as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

With their own sister on the in as well, this plan was going along perfectly. Arwen had told the twins during a visit to see her and Eldarion just after the birth that a faction in the Citadel who had grown tired of enduring their pranks had decided to exact revenge. She said that from what she could tell, it is unimaginably more devious than their worst prank. But she would tell them nothing more, claiming that no one would let her in on it, even though she all but begged to help bring about their retribution, for she was too close to the brothers and was deemed a risk.

By the end of the month, the twins were covering one another's backs at all times. They did not open any door without extreme caution; they ate nothing without giving it a thorough inspection and sometimes even insisting that one of those they had identified as suspects try a bit of their food and wine; walks in the garden, especially at night, had become as vigilant as their patrols at home had been; any time they had gone to sit down to supper, they carefully checked over the legs to be sure they hadn't been sawed through or some such thing. It had gotten to the point that every simple action that they had ever taken for granted was examined with a fine-tooth comb. They had become paranoid and nervous about everything, much to the amusement of those who were secretly aware that utterly nothing was going to befall them.

For a solid month, the Terrible Two were left squirming with disquiet that at any moment they were going to find themselves on the receiving end of some incredibly complicated and diabolical plot to make them look like absolute fools... and not in the way they appreciated. Consequently, the twins had taken to spending a _lot _of time with both Elboron and Eldarion, confident in the fact that no one would dare do anything to them when either of those two dear, defenseless (well, not quite defenseless in Elboron's case) little ones were around.

The culmination of the retribution of Elladan and Elrohir came the night of the celebration held in honor of Eldarion's birth. A rumor just _somehow_ managed to reach the Elf-ears of the two that whatever was being plotted was going to be revealed that night at the party. In these new days, parties held in the Citadel had a notoriety for carrying on through all hours. The twins were terrified of attending this party for the nephew, but they had little choice. So much could befall them and so publicly.

Aragorn was not exactly in the habit of giving parties like these very often, in fact it usually took much prodding to get him to do anything of the sort. This occasion was different though, this time the party was less about the celebration than it was for him and his friends (and mastermind son) to really enjoy watching the twins at their least comfortable before they came clean and let them off the proverbial hook.

For the entire night as the revelry wore on, Elladan and Elrohir grew increasingly more nervous and suspicious. They would not talk to anyone and if they weren't standing firmly backed against a wall, they were back-to-back. This party was more like a wooded battleground to them, and yet with their prime suspects, including Aragorn, Legolas, Faramir, Gimli, and Belthil, in mind, they knew that even their Elf-eyes would likely not see the "strike" as it was about to fall.

As the party began to wear down in the wee hours guests departed bit by bit, eventually leaving only the prime suspects. Yet Arwen was still there and so were a few others, several Citadel guards who seemed to know Faramir rather well, and even the younger Faramir, who had received a special dispensation to be permitted to stay up late at this celebration.

Aragorn waved the twins over to where they all were gathered there in Merethrond. They glanced at one another, very hesitant to move any closer to that particular group.

"Well, 'Ro, at least they waited until it was mostly just them," Elladan said, sounding resigned to their fate.

"We might as well take whatever they can dish out and do it bravely, what say you brother?" Elrohir said, still sounding nervous as they approached. Aragorn and Arwen rose and insisted that the twins be seated and make themselves comfortable, as if that was at all possible for them at the moment.

Wine was poured all around, from the same bottle, and Faramir rose to make a toast. "To Lords Elladan and Elrohir, for having endured our little ruse as much as we have had to endure theirs, some of us for decades and centuries on end. May they never forgot just how it feels to be at the mercy of the imminent practical joke."

"Here, here!" was heard all around as glasses were raised. The twins just looked entirely perplexed.

"Drink up, my brothers," Aragorn encouraged with a huge grin. "There is nothing in the wine, honestly."

They just stared at him as though they highly doubted that. It was more likely to them that everyone present had spent the last few months building up an immunity to whatever they tainted the wine with. Whatever the case, they staunchly refused to drink, especially considering that they did not even really understand what Faramir's toast was all about. By that time the whole table was in tears with laughter, every last one of them, with the exception of two highly annoyed Elven twins.

When it was (finally) explained to them that the entire joke was that there was no joke, they looked either extremely impressed or extremely round the bend. Faramir explained that he had the idea to use their own skill against them, to make it look like something incredible was about to befall them at any moment and just sit back and watch them writhe.

In the end, the twins had to admit that it was a brilliant plan and that the conspirators probably got more entertainment out of that one, extended prank than that they out of all the little ones they had pulled over the years. They wished they'd have thought of it, but no one really thought that they could make a joke play out that long without giving in and doing some absurd anyway.

As they made their way back to their chambers, Elladan and Elrohir vowed revenge no matter what it took. Aragorn, putting an arm around his elder son's shoulders, replied with a proud (and yet rather disconcertingly devious) smile, "You may do your worst, but with Gondor's finest tactician on our side, whatever we retaliate with will most assuredly make you regret your revenge."

"Then let the war begin!" the twins said in unison, rushing off to plot their next mischief.

Aragorn and Faramir knew they could sleep soundly for a while though, it was take them quite a while to overdo nothing.

ooo

_Now it's The End. I needed to add this because there was just no way i could see working this into the rest of the story, especially as i was getting closer and closer to the end._

_Look for a third in the Chaos series, The Return of Chaos, coming soon. Also, watch for updates to A Separate Chaos, as well as some little one-shots here and there, plot-bunnies who have been turning into dust-bunnies. _

_Elenhin: I think i was going to do the run-through of Elboron and Eldarion as they grow up in the first chapter(s) of Return of Chaos. That looks like its going to be pretty fun to write. I think that Eldarion and Elboron (here technically uncle and nephew) are going to end up being the best of friends. And yes, i most definitely agree, writers are a damaged species. There is a Masocistic tendency in all of us, which complements the Sadistic tendencies we impose on our poor characters rather well._

_linda: I hope to start working on that Denethor fic soon. My only query is: should that be set as a Chaos spin-off as well? I think that would add an extra dimension of intrigue. Perhaps i shall do that. Thanks for the bunny!_


End file.
